Mummy in the Mausoleum
by Kaliber23
Summary: The body that was found at an old cemetery gives only mysterious clues, that don't really seem to add up. Will Booth and the Squints be able to solve the mystery of the dead woman?
1. Another day at the lab

I most certainly own more than two-hundred and six of them, but the ones, I write about, I don't.

Set sometime in the late middle of Season 2.

* * *

**Mummy** **in the** **Mausoleum**

**Chapter 1: Another Day at the Lab**

An agitated forensic anthropologist was running through the big open Anthropology Unit of the MedicoLegal Laboratory of the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, DC. This was one of her court days again. And if she hated something about her work, it was having to testify in court, explaining her work to the jury. So she stalled as always. Giving her opinion on her colleagues' work, collecting information from each of her team members, whirling around the lab, grabbed by the shoulders and directed in the right direction again and again by some Special Agent Seeley Booth causing her to protest half-heartedly with an occasional "But...", "I just...", Dr. Temperance Brennan was finally nearing her office and put down her Prussian blue lab coat with the yellow emblem of the Jeffersonian, pulled the pencil, she had used as a hairpin, out of the bun on the back of her head and her auburn hair flowed down onto her shoulders in soft waves. She gathered her papers under the impatient gaze of her partner. "We'll be late already, now come on," he pushed harder. She finally had found the right file, turned the lights off and closed her glass office door behind her.

Only to come back seconds later, pick another file from her desk and hurry outside again.

From the opposite side of the lab, just in front of the Holographics Lab, Dr. Brennan's best friend, forensic artist Angela Montenegro, watched the scene with a smile tugging at her lips. No one else was allowed to push Bren around the way Seeley Booth did. It was his privilege as it was calling her 'Bones'. He was good for her, that was evident. Well, at least it was to Ange.

Turning her attention back to the task, Brennan had given her on her whirl through the lab, she looked down at the human skull in her hands. "Now, girl, let's find out who you are then." The empty orbits of the Caucasian girl in her early twenties stared back unblinking. The remains of the girl had been found off a seldom used path of Rock Creek Park under a thick branch. Her ribcage inside the synthetic jogging shirt was crushed. No signs of foul play. Supposedly she had been surprised by one of the heavy storms that had raged half a year prior. Angela would do the last step to close the case: Identify her, so she could be returned to her family.

By the time Dr. Brennan and Booth returned from court – the bad guy would be rotting in jail for the rest of his life, thanks to the Dr.'s analysis – the girl had a face again, at least virtually.

When the two partners entered Angela's Holographics Lab, a short up-rising sequence of computer generated tones laid itself over the soft humming sound of the Angelator and the printer sprang to life.

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" Angela looked at both of the newcomers with sadness in her dark brown almond-shaped eyes. "Poor girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She should be studying the law with her friends now." She sighed, as they all watched the hologram slowly rotating in the Angelator, illuminating their faces with a soft yellow glow.

"You found a name to the face?" Brennan shortly averted her face from the image.

Angela nodded and gave the printout to her friend. "Abigail Jones was twenty-two and in her third semester at Georgetown, when she disappeared last year in November," she read from the computer screen. "Two days later, on eleventh she would have turned twenty-three. It's sad, isn't it?" The other two just nodded.

Finally Temperance shook herself from the silence that had settled over them. "Thank you, Angela."

"My job, Sweetie." She smiled sadly. "My job."

"Anyway." With that Brennan left again, trailed by Booth. Her purposeful steps were directed at Cam's office to inform her about Angela's findings.

When Booth had caught up with her, he asked, "Are we going to celebrate at Wong Foo's tonight?"

"I have to ..." Temperance started, but was interrupted by her partner. "I can wait. I have nothing else to do today."

"Fine. Wong Foo's then." She knocked on the door to Cam's office and stepped in handing her the file. "We finished the examination of the girl from Rock Creek Park. Angela identified her as Abigail Jones, twenty-two."

Dr. Camille Saroyan studied the contents shortly, then looked up again. "How was court?"

"Fine. We nailed the bastard." Booth glanced sideways at his partner, who frowned confused by the metaphor he had used, but said nothing. "After she confused the jury with science talk, Bones was nevertheless able to convince them of his guilt, thanks to US Attorney Caroline Julian's asking the right questions." He got an elbow in his side. It was Brennan's _olecranon_ that came into close contact with his _costae_. Not that he'd put it that way.

An amused smiling Cam informed Dr. Brennan about a new set of bones to be analyzed. She dismissed the two in front of her desk with the words: "I have a call to make." She picked up the phone and typed in the number, she found on the file. After informing the responsible police station, it was another call to parents who had lost their child. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Jones. She sighed. This wasn't an easy task. It never was.

And never would be.

Never should be, if she wanted to stay in her job.

Outside Brennan walked to her office, exchanged her jacket for the lab coat and stuck the pencil from before into a newly wound bun to keep her hair out of her face. "Don't you have a scrunchy?" Booth looked at Brennan's makeshift construction.

"Broke." Was all he got as an answer, as the scientist was already moving out of her office again, and sliding her identification card seconds later through the security port of the work platform at the center of the lab. She clipped it to her coat again as she moved up the steps and then snapped on surgical gloves. "What have we got?" she asked her young assistant Dr. Zach Addy.

"Someone found these bones at the bottom of a small cliff in Anacostia Park, thought they were human and informed the police," the mumbled answer was. "No _cranium_. Just small _costae_. Some _ossa longa_, probably _femur_..."

"Erm," Booth cleared his throat. He'd been behind Dr. Brennan all the time, though mainly ignored by her. "Care to speak English for the non-squint around?"

"We've got ribs and long bones. Probably a thigh." Brennan answered without looking up, leaning over the steel autopsy table, the bones lay on. "You see that?" She pointed at one of the long bones. Zach copied her posture. "The _tuberositas_?"

"Yes." He positioned a camera above the spot, Brennan indicated.

"Tuberosities are the places were the muscle is connected to the bone via a longer or shorter tendon. Newborns have only very small tuberosities, if at all. They grow with time and to the extent of the pull of the muscle," Brennan explained to her non-scientist partner.

"This one here...," Zack said and looked up at Booth, "It's far too prominent to be from a human skeleton this size. More typical for species _canis_. Fits with the form of the _costae_, too."

"My thoughts, exactly." She snapped the gloves from her hands again and looking at Booth commented, "Definitely non-human, probably a dog. Case closed." The gloves landed in one of the red bins marked with the biological hazard sign. And off she went again. Finding nothing else to do in the lab, Brennan retreated to her office, Booth still with her. It had already grown more silent in this part of the institution. She sat in front of her computer screen, while Booth sat on the couch waiting for her to finish for the day, slowly dozing off.

It was almost seven, when Angela came into the office and said her goodbye. "Don't work too long, Sweetie. See you tomorrow."

"Won't, Ange. See you tomorrow." Brennan said, averting her gaze only shortly from the screen.

Angela shook her head slightly and then waved to Booth, who had been woken by their short exchange. "Bye. Get her out of here early, okay, Booth?"

"I'll try." He, too, waved his right hand and then gave Brennan half an hour, before he stood from the couch and moved over to her desk. "Come on, Bones. Let's get going. You've done enough for the day." He took her jacket from the hook and held it out to her. "These reports can wait. Shut your computer down and come on."

"I just...", she objected again, but as always did what he asked her to. Saving the newly written paragraphs to her next book (it would be called "No Bones About") on the hard drive of her computer. Clicking on several x-es, Brennan closed the different programs that were running on her computer and then, while the computer shut down, gathered some papers. "Okay, I'm ready", she stated finally and took the jacket from Booth. "Let's go."

* * *

Wong Foo's was quite full. All their favorite booths were already occupied, so they sat down at the bar and ordered their drinks. Temperance just asked about Parker, when Sid – the owner of this place – returned from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of noodles. While eating, Booth told her about how his five-year-old son was looking forward to finally getting to school after the summer. "He wants to learn everything and get as smart as Daddy."

"Good for him."

A few minutes later Sid returned with the drinks and Brennan asked him once again in amazement how he always knew what meal to serve. It was a rhetorical question. She knew the answer: he just knew. Sid shrugged.

"Hey, Bones. It's his sixth sense. Leave it at that." Booth looked at his partner and smiled. "Pity he can't talk to ghosts. Then solving our cases would be so much easier."

"I don't believe in such things as ghosts or sixth senses," she snorted, lifting some noodles from the bowl with her chop sticks. "There's no prove they exist. And there will probably never be." The noodles disappeared in her mouth.

"Come on, Bones. You got to believe in something."

She just thought for about a second, while swallowing, her brow furrowed in concentration, before she replied: "You know very well that I'm an atheist. But I guess I do nevertheless." She smiled. "In science and in physical proves. And-" she added pointing the chop sticks at Booth, "-I'm living quite well with it. Anthropologically, a god was always a way to explain those things that couldn't be explained scientifically at the time. There were gods for thunder, sun, fire, death, fertility and so on." She counted off on her fingers and then shrugged. "Take your pick. So..."

"Okay, okay. I've got it," Booth interrupted her. "But, as you might remember, I'm a Catholic and I do believe in God."

"You can't discuss about believes and religion. Either you do or you don't believe in any higher power. You do, I don't and that's all there is to it."

Booth would have liked to know, if she was raised in any religious way by her parents. But instead of asking he took the last noodles from his bowl and kept the question to himself. It would only have taken her into an emotional turmoil. Remembered her of the fact that brother and father had left her once again, that her mother was dead. And right now she seemed to be almost happy and content. He didn't want to destroy that.

If he asked, Sid would have to serve her a new meal.

At that thought he smirked to himself.

"What are you grinning about to yourself?" an amused forensic anthropologist asked.

"I just realized once again how different we are." Booth shook his head.

"Yeah, but we complement each other somehow perfectly. Or we wouldn't be that successful as a team," Brennan pointed out and pushed her empty bowl to the side.

Booth lifted his glass. "So here's once again to us."

Brennan lifted her glass as well. "And to our success."

The glasses met in mid air between the two smiling partners.


	2. Cemeteries are full of bodies

**Chapter 2: Cemeteries are full of badly decomposed bodies**

The next day was starting with a beautiful sunrise. The sky was clear, the air fresh and warm. And Brennan already sat behind her desk and typed a new chapter of "No Bones About" at seven.

The sky above the glass ceiling turned a beautiful orange tone, when the sun won over the first dark, then dawny color of the night. It illuminated the laboratory and, indirectly, Temperance's office. Her face though was illuminated by the blueish white glow of her screen. Outside the air was filled with birds' song, the lab lay quiet and the office was filled with the constant click click click of keys being pressed by slender fingers.

Then this quietness was disturbed by the chirping of her cellphone. Temperance got it from her coat pocket and hit the green receiver icon. "Brennan." She held the tiny device between her ear and her shoulder, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.

"Where the hell are you?" The voice on the other end was clearly accusing her of not being where she should be at the moment. Wherever that was.

"Good morning to you, too, Booth," she said, letting Kathy Reichs drive to the crime scene in the next paragraph. "I'm at the Jeffersonian."

"Fine. I'm coming." Dial tone. Booth had closed his phone and turned from the door he had been pounding on, leaving the building Temperance's loft was in.

Brennan hit the red icon and put the phone beside the keyboard. On her face she had a concentrated look, the one entomologist Dr. Jack Hodgins referred to as seeming like she had 'stuck a fork into a toaster'. By the time Booth came to her office, Kathy Reichs had taken a first look at the skeletons that had been unearthed.

"Bones, there's been found a corpse at Glenwood Cemetery."

Brennan gave him a look, between amusement and accusation. "I told you once that Arlington Cemetery is full of badly decomposed bodies and so is Glenwood Cemetery. It's a cemetery, as well, after all."

"Jeez, Bones! And I told you back then that that body was different. And this one's not from a grave either. You'll see."

Brennan turned toward the screen again, finished the last sentence and reached for the mouse to click on the little floppy disc icon of the text program and then on the x in the upper right corner. The program shut down and she grabbed her bag and her jacket and started to leave.

"You won't need that." He pointed to the jacket and followed her out of her office. "It's already quite warm outside. You would have noticed, if you rose at times normal people rise. Since when are you here?"

"Don't know. Six thirty?" She shrugged and Booth looked at her accusingly. "What? I couldn't sleep any more anyway, so..."

"So you came here and worked. What were you doing anyway?"

"Writing."

"You've got a laptop. You could've done it at home." Booth pressed the button on his key that opened his car.

Brennan put her bag and her jacket on the back seat of the FBI issued SUV. "My notes were at the Jeffersonian." She opened the passenger's door of Booth's car as Booth opened the one on the driver's side. They both sat down in their seats and closed their doors simultaneously. While Booth put the key in the ignition and then the car in gear, Brennan fastened her seatbelt. "I don't understand, why you never fasten your seatbelt. You should know how many deadly accidents wouldn't have been deadly, if the drivers and their passengers had had their seatbelts on."

Rolling his eyes, he took the seatbelt and put it over his shoulder and into the buckle. "Better?" he asked, when a click announced that it was fastened.

Brennan nodded. "Better."

"So what's Kathy Reichs doing?"

"You can wait, until the book's in the shops, like all the others can wait."

"Come on, Bones, just a little hint. Puhleeze," he begged like his son always did.

"Doesn't work. What would Parker say, if he saw you begging like he does himself? I guess he wouldn't want to 'get as smart as Daddy' any more, but light years smarter."

"Just a small hint." He tried the puppy eyes on her.

"Doesn't work either. And doesn't make you smarter. You better keep your eyes on the street anyway. The traffic light there's red."

He slowed the car to a hold. "And I can't convince you in any way?"

"NO!" Brennan looked at him, as if he were a kid instead of an adult FBI Agent. A kid that wouldn't take a "no" for what it was. After a few moments of silently shaking her head, she smiled smugly though. "OK. Just a very little hint."

Now it was Booth's turn to give her a full blown charm smile. "I knew you would."

"Kathy Reichs is gonna unearth at least one skeleton." Brennan said this matter-of-factly, trying to hide the grin that wanted to spread over her features.

"That's not fair, Bones," he whined.

"So?" She chuckled. "By the way: it's turned green."

"What?"

Brennan pointed at the traffic light and as the first cars behind them started honking, Booth understood her meaning and put the car in gear again.

By the time they reached Glenwood Cemetery, Angela reached the Jeffersonian. In her hands she held two Styrofoam cups of hot coffee. It was eight sharp and she was in a good mood. "Isn't it a beautiful day today? The sky is blue, the birds are singing, ... It's a pity you work so much, Bren," Angela said expecting her best friend to be sitting behind her computer screen. Upon finding her office empty, she frowned. She'd never been at the Jeffersonian before her friend. "Brennan?" She had turned and walked into the lab, again calling for her. "Brennan?!"

"She's not here." A voice came from a small lab at the side of the big laboratory. It belonged to Zach.

Angela walked into the direction of it. "Good morning, Z-man. Do you know where she is?"

Zach walked out into the big, open lab. "No, she wasn't here, when I came in twenty minutes ago. Oh, and Hodgins is fetching some bagels and coffee."

"While we wait, do you want Brennan's coffee?" She held one of the steaming cups in Zach's direction, who accepted it with a smile. "Thanks, Ange." Both took a sip from their coffee cups.

"I'll try her cell," Angela decided, when she had swallowed the coffee. She turned and walked to her office, past the Angelator and to her desk. Taking the receiver and pushing the button marked "Bren", she waited for the dial tone to stop.

"Brennan." All business.

"Hey, Sweetie. I was worrying about you, as I came here and you weren't there."

"Is it general practice now to not tell your name, when you call someone?" Now she sounded almost a bit exasperated.

"Em...Yeah. Everything okay?" She furrowed her brow. "Where are you, Bren?"

"I'm with Booth..."

"Ah... How was he?" Angela's eyes were twinkling with mischief now, hoping against hope that the inevitable had finally happened. Especially since her best friend seemed to be pissed by her call.

"Oh, ... he's fine." Now Brennan furrowed a brow. "I think."

"That's not what I... never mind." She sighed. Brennan was still Brennan: not understanding her allusion, which led Angela to the conclusion that, indeed, nothing had happened between the two. "So where are you two?"

"Glenwood Cemetery. There's been found a corpse in one of the mausoleums."

"Shouldn't there be at least one corpse in a mausoleum?"

"What I tell Booth all the time. But he's right, this one's different from the others. It's not in, but beside the casket." Brennan waved her hand at a technician. "You can get her in the van."

"So, it's a girl?"

"Woman. Late twenties to mid-thirties. We'll be coming back to the Jeffersonian now."

"See you then."

"Yeah." Brennan let her cell phone sink a bit. Then Angela heard her yell at the technician, "Be careful with her. You will destroy evidence, if ...", before the connection was cut. Angela shook her head.

"What makes you smile, Angela?"

Angela returned the receiver to its cradle and swiveled around to Dr. Jack Hodgins. "Good morning, Jack." Her smile brightened. She stepped into his embrace. "I just came off the phone with Brennan. She and Booth will be here in a few minutes with a corpse from a mausoleum."

"Well, are they so desperate for a new case, that they take the corpses from graves now?" Jack grinned and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Angela stepped back to be able to look at her boyfriend. "Obviously. But they insist on this corpse being different and not really belonging into the mausoleum."

"Ah, so that made you smile?"

"That and Brennan being Brennan."

"What did she do again?"

"Said some not intended sexual innuendo and when I answered to that, she didn't react in kind."

"Don't be too hard on her."

"Don't tell me. She's my best friend, remember?"

Jack kissed her properly now and then lead her out of her office. "I bought some bagels and coffee. They are up at the lounge. That is, if Zach hasn't already eaten them."

"Let's find out then."

They climbed the metal steps and sat down at the table in the lounge, joining Zach.


	3. Mysterious patterns and a plan

**Chapter 3: Mysterious patterns and a plan**

The electric glass doors connecting the older part of the building to the modern laboratory slid open, when their infra-red sensors detected movement.

"No, you'll not get anything more than that, Booth."

"Come on, Bones. Just a little bit more," the agent whined, stepping into the lab behind his partner, and when Angela saw his puppy eyes, she had to laugh.

"Aw, come on, Bren, whatever it is, give the man what he asks you for."

Brennan met her best friend with disbelief. "What? No!" She turned to Booth again. "You'll not get anything else. Don't ask again, it won't help." She started walking again, grinning smugly. "I might tell your son, that you're applying his begging techniques. Let's see what he says about that."

Angela linked her arm with Brennan's. "So, what is he asking for that you are so unwilling to give? Anything that I would do?"

Brennan snorted. "He wants to know what happens in my next book. And apparently he's learned a lot from his son. But that won't work."

"Wait, didn't you say he won't get '_more_ than that'? So you told him something. He knows more than I do." Angela untangled herself from Brennan's arm, crossed her own two over her chest and tapped her right foot expectantly.

Booth joined them. "Not really," he, too, snorted. "She told me quote 'Kathy Reichs is gonna unearth at least one skeleton' unquote. That's not really information that I didn't know before."

"It's more information," Brennan stated. "Now you know that it will be at least one _complete_ skeleton. She doesn't only find a skull for example. And it's in the earth, so she has to dig for it. And the remains are skeletonized and not just badly decomposed." She shrugged. "But you won't get more. Read the book, when you can buy it."

Booth pouted. "Fine."

"Well, the pleading puppy eyes don't seem to be the only thing he learned from his son." Angela laughed again. "Look at that, Sweetie. He can at least pout as cute."

Brennan looked up and chuckled, too. Angela had a point.

The doors opened again and their new corpse was wheeled in. Brennan sobered and called for Zach and Hodgins.

"Let's first get her x-rayed. Then we'll need to secure any particulates we can find and look over her skin carefully, before we can macerate her, so Angela can do a facial reconstruction."

* * *

"She had immaculate teeth and not a single bone has ever been broken," Brennan said, pointing at the x-ray-sheets on the light box of the small lab, they were currently in. "She was in her late twenties, early thirties. About 175 centimeters tall, that's 5 feet nine inches," she explained looking at Booth, "Slender build. Dark blond hair." She pursed her lips. "That's all we have for now. Zach and Cam are going over her skin and Hodgins is analyzing the remnants of her clothing, as well as the insect activity."

"Great." Booth sighed. "That's all very average, don't you think?"

"Yeah. You're right. Even though she is a bit taller than average, it doesn't really help going over missing persons reports." She, too, sighed. "When Cam and Zach are ready, we'll rehydrate a finger and see if her prints are registered somewhere. If that doesn't work, we'll macerate her and Angela will have to do a facial reconstruction."

"Guys?" Cam stood in the door, looking at the two partners, who in turn now looked at her. "I severed a hand and rehydrated it. The prints are running through AFIS now." IAFIS, the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System, would compare the prints to any in its database, no matter if they were registered due to a crime or mandatory for a job.

"Are you ready with the examination of the skin?"

"No, Zach's still working on that, but the hand I severed was clean." And anticipating Brennan's need for control, she added, "And, yes, I gave scrapings from under her fingernails to Hodgins."

"Let's hope AFIS has something then," Booth clapped his hands and then flipped one of his poker chips before catching it again. In general it was so much easier to find the murderer, if you knew who the victim was.

* * *

"All we could find is a strange more or less regular pattern of diminutive circular wounds in her desiccated epidermis," Brennan told Booth, approaching the table. Her frustration was evident in heavy sigh. "And we don't know what caused them yet."

"Nothing else?" He wasn't 100 percent sure what she'd said, but he assumed it meant that there were round wounds in a pattern on her dried skin.

"Nothing." Brennan let herself fall onto the chair in their favorite booth of The Royal Diner. Booth already sat across from her. "I've never seen such a pattern before." She shook her head. "Anything on your part?" Brennan lifted her gaze hopefully.

Booth smirked. "No, not really. I couldn't ask any specific questions without knowing more of your stuff. The background check on the cemetery employees came back clean, apart from an arrest for DUI ten years ago."

Brennan's eyes returned to the tabletop and her folded hands.

"Describe the pattern," Booth finally said, "maybe I know what caused it."

Brennan looked up at him sceptically, but answered nevertheless. "The wounds are organized in something that looks like..." She searched for the right word, looking at the ceiling. When she had decided on an image, she looked back at Booth. "A bit like a... a heap of tangled rope, though they are not aligned continuously."

"Everywhere?"

She shook her head. "Nuh uh. Mainly her left leg and a few wounds on her right thigh. Any ideas?"

Booth shook his head. "And you won't macerate her, before you know what caused them?"

"No, but we're considering instead to rehydrate her completely, to see how the wounds might have looked before she was desiccated."

"Anything from IAFIS yet?"

"No. And there was only very little insect activity," Brennan said, when the waitress placed the plate with salad, she had ordered while coming in, in front of her. "So we're assuming that she was in a secluded place, not accessible to insects of any kind and later placed in the mausoleum, where the few beetles we did find fed on her."

The young waitress had wrinkled her nose in disgust and hurriedly left the table again. It wasn't the first time, she had overheard them talking about something disgusting and it wouldn't be the last, but she'd never get used to it.

Booth grunted frustrated. "So, there's no telling, when she died."

"No. We don't know how warm it was, where she's been. How dry the air exactly was. She could be dead anywhere from a few months to a decade." Brennan dug listlessly into her salad.

Booth stayed silent, until a suspicion occurred to him. "Wait, if you can't macerate her yet, Angela's not going to be able to do a facial reconstruction, right?"

Brennan shook her head, taking another bite of her salad.

After a while Booth spoke up tentatively, causing Brennan to look up from her salad with raised eyebrows. Booth was never unsure. "Can she use CT or MRI pictures of the skull for a reconstruction? I mean those are 3-dimensional pictures."

"The results are 3-dimensional reconstructions, not exactly 3-dimensional _pictures_, but it's worth a shot. Good thinking." Her face lit up.

"Don't sound so surprised, Bones," Booth said, putting a hurt look on his face.

Brennan pulled out her phone and continued speaking as if she hadn't heard Booth. "I'll ask Angela, if she can modify her program and then we'll have to find a hospital that is willing to scan a mummy." She waited holding her phone to her ear and chewing on her salad with more appetite now. "Hey Angela. Can you take CT pictures as input for the Angelator?"

"Yeah. As every CT gives you a 3-dimensional version of your inside, it shouldn't be too hard to accomplish." The artist paused. "You're thinking of scanning our Jane Doe."

"That's the plan, as we can't macerate her right now and Booth wants to have an ID, so he can start working."

"Nice idea of yours."

"Actually, it was more like Booth's idea."

"Then tell our favorite G-man 'nice idea'," Angela said and continued, when Brennan had complied, "So, where do you plan on doing that scan?"

"We've not planned that far. Maybe Cam has connections to a hospital with a CT."

"Okay, I'll talk to her. Bye, Sweetie."

Brennan put the phone back into her pocket. "Angela thinks it should be possible."

Booth was grinning smugly about the success of his idea. "I could gather that much. Why didn't you suggest MRI?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Still doubtful, Brennan started to explain, "An MRI works with a powerful magnetic field that is used to stimulate the hydrogen atoms in the body. These produce then a rotating magnetic field of their own which is detected by a scanner. That way an image of the body can be reconstructed. Still with me?"

"Yeah, kind of, but is there a short version?"

"This is already the very, very short version."

Booth rolled his eyes.

"It is!" Brennan said and then continued with her explanation. "As there are more hydrogen atoms in soft tissue than there are in the calcified parts of the body – as the bones – the soft tissue is better accounted for than the bones."

"So, to no use for us," Booth commented.

Brennan nodded. "At least a CT will be better suited for our purposes. It makes x-ray pictures from many different angles around the body and from that calculates an image of it. X-rays show the bones very clearly, while – without modification – they have problems with the soft tissue."

"Which doesn't really interest us anyway."

Brennan smiled. "Exactly. That's why no MRI. Besides: CT is cheaper and less noisy." She winked and finished off another forkful of her salad, her mood now far better than before.

* * *

My knowledge on MRIs and CTs is strictly based on Wikipedia.


	4. Mummy's day out

**Chapter 4: Mummy's day out**

"Bethesda is willing to assist us," Cam told Brennan, when she and Booth returned to the Jeffersonian after their lunch break. "We'll just have to tell them, when we'll be coming with her. I suggest we do it sooner rather than later, as all the fingerprint databases we checked came up empty so far."

"That's a pity," Booth said.

Brennan nodded. "Let's check, if we can pack her."

All three walked up to the platform and entered it after Brennan had swiped her key card, to check on Zach and Hodgins. Both were hunched over the body swiping parts of the skin and collecting particulates.

"When can we ship her over to Bethesda Naval Hospital?"

"I'll need another few hours," Hodgins said holding up tweezers with a dry piece of plant. "Now what are you?" He squinted at it and moved over to a nearby magnifying lamp. "I'd say some kind of seaweed. I'll check on it. Can you make that tomorrow? I want to be thorough. And will you scan her inside a body bag? No evidence will be lost that way."

"We will," Brennan said, while she put on gloves to assist the two of them in collecting particulates.

Cam excused herself to place the call to Bethesda.

---------------

The first thing they did the next morning was putting the body into a body bag, as planned. When they had put it on a stretcher, Booth and Brennan carried it to one of the black Jeffersonian trucks.

"Come back with nice pictures," Angela told them handing Booth the car keys, when he – as always – climbed onto the driver's seat, even though this car was more under the responsibility of Brennan than him. She, however, took the passenger's seat voluntarily anyway. She didn't like driving the huge trucks, even though she would have been able to. Their cuboid form was unwieldy, even though practical for the purpose they were designed for. So instead of asking Booth why he had to always insist on driving, she buried her face in the file and studied the photos of the wounds on the woman's skin closely for what seemed like the millionth time, trying to make sense of them, but once again unable to.

"So, any new insight?"

Booth's words startled her from her musings. "No, not really." She took a deep breath and blew it out in frustration. "Nothing else." She smirked. "I guess it doesn't really help staring at these pictures, but we've got nothing else."

"We'll get something new soon enough. We're almost there."

"Hopefully identifying her will help."

"It will. It always does, when you know who you are talking about."

They pulled up in front of the Naval Hospital. "So, where do we need to head to now?"

"I guess he'll tell us." Brennan pointed at a young man in his white Navy uniform, identifying him as a Petty Officer Third Class, who waited at the gate beside the regular guard, who was a Marine Private wearing the olive and khaki uniform of the Corps. Booth wound his window down.

"Ma'am, Sir, I assume you are the ones in need of a CT?"

"Yes, Petty Officer," Booth answered through his open window, showing the two soldiers his and Brennan's ID. "How do we get there best?"

"With your cargo I suggest you take the entrance to the mortuary around the back," the Petty Officer said. "I'll meet you there. Ma'am. Sir." He nodded briefly at each of them and then hurried off towards the main building.

Booth put the car back into gear, when he was waved through the gate, and followed a black hearse, that had just disappeared around the corner. When they reached the mortuary entrance, Booth put the truck into park again and the two partners climbed from the vehicle turning to the back to retrieve the body from its rear compartment. "Why doesn't the Jeffersonian have a CT anyway?" Booth asked. "I mean you could use it for ancient mummies, too. Like that man from the Iron Age."

They rolled the stretcher with the body bag to the door, where they waited for the Petty Officer. "With the forensic cases, we're able to macerate the bodies in general, so there is no need for imaging the skull. With the 'ancient mummies' you're mostly right. It wouldn't have helped with the man from the Iron Age, though. He has a metal helmet on his head and therefore we couldn't have gotten an image of his neck anyway. MRI is out of the question, too, as the helmet is made of iron – as typical for the time – and thus reacting to such a strong magnet as there is in the machine. It would have destroyed the integrity of the man and probably the MRI, too."

"It's that strong? The magnet?"

Brennan nodded. "Stronger. You shouldn't go into a room with an MRI with anything containing iron or similar metals. Everything will be adducted from pens to ladders to piercings."

He lifted one eyebrow at the mention of the ladder and muttered "Ouch", when he thought of a piercing ripped from the flesh.

Brennan nodded again, when the Petty Officer from before opened the door for them. "Ma'am, Sir. If you'll follow me. Lieutenant Commander Bertings is awaiting you."

"Lead the way, Petty Officer," Booth said, unconsciously straightening. He started to push the stretcher into the hospital and they followed the young man through the maze of corridors. Finally they seemed to have reached their destination.

"Commander Bertings?" the Petty Officer asked. "Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan are here."

The Lieutenant Commander – a woman in her late thirties – looked up from a file she was holding in her hands. She had an air of authority about her. Over her khaki uniform she wore a white doctor's coat and her blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun on the nape of her neck. "Thank you, Petty Officer." Her voice was commanding, yet warm. "Dismissed."

The young man stood at attention and then quickly left without seeming overly rushed.

"Cam told me, you needed someone with a CT."

"That's correct, Ma'am," Booth said with a resolute and precise voice, as if he were answering his commanding officer.

"I see, someone with military background...," the commander stated with a smirk, her voice light and less commanding than before. "Which force? If I may ask?"

"Army Rangers."

"Well, I will forgive you that, Agent Booth."

"What?" Brennan asked confused.

"She would have liked me better, if I'd been a Squid, too," Booth explained.

Brennan furrowed her brow. "I don't know what that means."

"That's okay, Bones. You don't have to. It's a rivalry reaching all the way back."

Brennan still was more confused than anything else.

"He wanted to say that it would have been preferable, if he had been in the Navy," the woman explained smiling, causing Brennan to form a silent 'oh' with her mouth. "Okay, let's get started, shall we?" the commander continued and the two partners nodded.

"How do you know Dr. Saroyan?" Brennan wanted to know as the doctor led the way to the CT.

"We went to medical school together and stayed in contact ever since," she replied and then continued, "I understand you need pictures of the skull."

"Yes. We'd like to do a facial reconstruction, but we cannot macerate her yet," Brennan said.

"Do you need the actual pictures or the digital data?"

"The data would be all right, as we want to feed it into the computer program, our forensic artist designed, anyway."

"Fair enough." She pushed a door open beside which a small sign read _Computer Tomography_. "Here we are. Let's get her into the machine then." Brennan and Commander Bertings carefully lifted the body bag from the stretcher onto the table of the computer tomograph. The Commander motioned for them to leave the room again, when their victim lay in the correct spot. "No need to expose you to more x-rays than necessary." They entered a room with a large window made of lead glass overlooking the computer tomograph. "Take a seat." The partners sat and watched as the Commander pressed a few keys of a computer and suddenly a black, white and grey image appeared on the screen. "Is a scan of the head sufficient or shall I do the whole length of the body?"

"The whole body would be nice, as we still have no cause of death. We might have overlooked something on the x-rays."

The older woman nodded. "I'll give you the head images separately, though." She stroked a few more keys. "It might make it easier for your forensic artist."

"Thanks."

On the screen now appeared successively pictures of her thorax and arms, her abdomen and finally her legs and feet. A few key strokes later, the images morphed into a 3D-image, one of the head and then one of the whole body. Lieutenant Commander Bertings put a CD into the drive of the computer and saved the images on it. Handing the disk to Brennan, her pager went off. The doctor looked down at the number and sighed. "I guess I'm needed at the ER now." She picked up the phone, dialed and asked for Petty Officer Gentry. Then she dialed another number. "Just wait for the Petty Officer. He'll show you out again."

"Thank you, Commander."

"It's been a pleasure." She smiled and then said into the receiver, "Lieutenant Commander Bertings." She listened and then put the phone down again. Turning around at the door she stated, "Agent Booth, you know the Army stands no chance against the Navy. We haven't lost since 2002, this year will be no different."

"A football fan. Nice. Let's talk again in December, Commander, when the Army has rightfully won."

The woman laughed good-naturedly and left the room waving at them.

"So, that was it?" Booth asked.

"Yes, let's pack her up again. The sooner we're back at the Jeffersonian, the sooner you'll get the reconstruction and hopefully a name." Her face was scrunched up again. "What was that about?" They carefully set the woman's remains onto the stretcher again.

"Since the 1890's the college football teams of the United States Military Academy and the United States Naval Academy are playing against each other almost every first Saturday in December. Sadly the last couple of years the Navy won and now they won two games more than the Army in total, but we'll win this year," Booth explained full of confidence.

Brennan just shook her head, when the Petty Officer from before reappeared.

Booth was glad to have the young man show them the way. He always thought that hospitals were confusing with their countless corridors and floors. The ride down to the mortuary in the elevator was passed in silence and when they were back at their truck the Petty Officer shook their hands. "It's been nice to have met you, Ma'am, Sir." He nodded at both of them curtly again and then turned on his heels entering the building and leaving them alone.

"So, let's get her back in and head to the Jeffersonian," Booth said, clapping his hands. Brennan nodded and together they fastened the stretcher back in the vehicle.

* * *

By the way: I've never left Europe, so I have never been to the United States, to the Bethesda Naval Hospital nor Glenwood Cemetery. So anything I get wrong about the United States, the military and whatever else, I am sorry about, but I didn't know better (or my research on Wikipedia and the rest of the internet wasn't thorough enough).


	5. Even bigger mystery

Here's the next chapter.

By the way: Sorry, **maserated**, close, but no cigar (dictdotleodotorg told me this was the idiom I wanted to use). There will be no vampire slayer in this story. I hope you'll like it anyway.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Even bigger mystery**

"Here's everything you should need." Brennan handed the disk to her best friend who fed it into her computer.

"Let's see." Angela pulled up the 3D-image of the skull and started to type away on her keyboard to make the image Angelator fitted. Then she took her touch panel and her stylus. Switching on the Angelator, she said, "So, this is the CT scan of our victim." With a few strokes of her stylus the black-and-white image of a skull appeared in mid air, surrounded by the usual golden rain and shimmer. "Give me some time, Sweetie." Angela turned to Brennan. "Go analyzing with Hodgins, Zach and Cam. Take Booth with you. I'll get you, when I'm ready."

The agent had been looking at the artist as expectantly as the anthropologist, but now he turned nodding his head. Angela could work better, when she wasn't being looked over her shoulder. Booth knew that. It was the same for him. The only one he tolerated, whom he didn't mind being watched by any more, was Brennan. The partners left and Angela returned to manipulating the image in front of her.

By the time a relaxed and peaceful face was floating in the Angelator, it was way past normal working hours, but Angela was sure that the others hadn't left either. She let the image run through the missing persons databases and went out into the main lab to see what they were doing. She found Hodgins at his workstation to the right of the central platform, peering through a magnifying lamp at a small speck of ... something. He positioned a camera above it, enlarging the image even more and shaking his head again and again. "Why are you shaking your head?"

Jack jumped. "Jeez, Angela. Don't give me a heart attack. I was planning on enjoying our relationship for still a while."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a peck on the lips, that made him smile. "So, why the shaking of the head?"

The smile disappeared and was replaced by confusion. "This doesn't make sense." He pointed at the screen. "If I'm not quite mistaken – which I seldom am, as you know – this is _Durvillaea antarctica_. Bull kelp. See that pattern?"

Angela looked at the screen. "Looks a bit like a honeycomb."

"Exactly. Typical for _Durvillaea antarctica_. But that sort of kelp is only found in the southern waters around East Australia and New Zealand." He shook his head once again. "The other seaweeds are indigenous in the more southern parts of the US-American Atlantic Coast, too. Which doesn't really make sense either, admittedly."

"You'll figure it out. I have faith in you." She gave her boyfriend another kiss. "I have a face, by the way."

"Good," Hodgins said, already looking at the kelp again, frowning. He hated it, when he couldn't figure out a puzzle.

Angela smirked and continued her search for the others. She found most of them on the platform. Cam, Zach and Brennan were leaning over the body, squinting at every square inch of desiccated skin there was, for probably the hundredth time.

"Hey, anything new?"

"Not really," Cam answered, when nobody else did. "You?" She looked up at the newcomer.

"I've got a face," Angela replied. "Just no name yet. Where's the G-Man?"

"Either the Diner, Sid's or in my office," Brennan said, without looking up from the dead woman's leg. "He wanted to get something to eat a little while back." Finally she did look up. "You've got a face?"

Angela nodded and picking up the receiver of a phone that was on one of the tables on the edge of the platform she stated, "I'm gonna call Booth." Booth told her he was already on his way, when he heard about the reconstructed face.

"I think we can rehydrate her now. We've gone over every square inch multiple times and taken samples from under her nails, from the injured skin, from her stomach contents and from her lung tissue. The rest can wait until later." Brennan discarded her latex gloves and looked at Zach.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan," he said, "I'll start right away." With that he hurried off in the direction of one of the smaller labs to the side of the MedicoLegal Laboratory.

He had just left, when Booth came into the lab, carrying bags of food from Wong Foo's. "I thought you'd be hungry, too," he said by way of greeting.

"I sure could eat something," Angela said walking towards the steps of the platform. "But let me show you the face first, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Booth waited for the others to come down from the platform, too, and then he followed them to the Holographics Lab. On their way they picked up Hodgins, who sat frowning at his magnifying lamp, shifting his squinting gaze from the screen to the magnifying lamp and back.

The Angelator still showed the reconstruction of the young woman's face. It was surrounded by straight dark blond hair. She wasn't an eye catcher, but she was beautiful in a natural, inconspicuous way, when looked at closer. Her snub nose and the high cheek bones gave her a Scandinavian look, though there was no telling if she really had been, till they had her name.

"Show me the CT scan again, Angela."

Angela did as Brennan told her and soon beside the reconstruction the black and white CT scan started turning.

"Superimpose them."

The two pictures morphed into one, the skin of the woman turning translucent, making the bones show through, with Angela's stroke of the stylus.

"Very good." Brennan looked at Angela. "Which way is easier for the reconstruction process?"

"There's not that much difference, actually," Angela replied, "except that you have to clean the actual bones before I can scan them in. Certain CT-programmes can give you the structure of the bones only, so I can work before that. You could get the results earlier."

"Is that enough to ask for a computer tomograph for our facility?"

"I'll ask the donors," Cam answered Temperance's question, "Perhaps we're lucky and someone gives one to us."

Brennan nodded.

"Can you open her eyes?" Booth asked. "People tend to recognise someone they saw better, when they have the same expression, they normally have."

Booth hadn't even finished his sentence, when the reconstruction opened her shining blue eyes and her lips turned upwards in a tiny smile. "Like this?" Angela asked.

"Thanks, Angela." He looked at the picture. "Now, she's even more beautiful."

Everyone nodded.

"Is there anything else?"

It was Jack Hodgins' turn to speak up. "Yeah, but right now what I found doesn't make sense in the least."

"How so?" Brennan asked.

"Well, the specks of plant I found are parts of algae. Most of them are indigenous in North Atlantic waters, too, but there is this one speck that can't be anything else but _Durvillaea antarctica_, bull kelp, which is solely found in the South Pacific as its name suggests. I'll check again, though. Perhaps an aquarium has them..."

"Do that," Booth said, "but tomorrow will suffice. The aquariums will be closed now anyway."

"Aquaria," the chorus came from Brennan, Hodgins, Cam and Zach, who had just joined them.

"Whatever. Let's eat instead." Booth lifted his hand from which the Chinese take out still hung. He turned and walked out of the lab.

"Dr. Brennan, we can transfer the victim to the bath now," Zach said, when his former mentor came by him on her way out.

"Okay, we'll transfer her and then join the others in the lounge."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

So, while the others climbed the steps to the lounge that viewed the whole lab from above, Brennan and Zach pushed the stainless steel table their victim was currently lying on to the examination room Zach had disappeared into before and carefully transferred her into the plexiglass box that was now halfway filled with a liquid. "It's physiological?"

"Of course. We don't want her cells to disintegrate," Zach replied, when they set the mummy down into the physiological solution. Zach let go and then started to poor more solution into the box, until the victim was completely covered.

"Let's join the others."

"Yes." Zach's stomach rumbled.

"I think your stomach agrees," Brennan said smiling. They both discarded their gloves and their lab coats and went to wash their hands, before heading up to the lounge as well.

* * *

For the knowledge about the algae applies the same as before (after all botany is one reason for me not to study biology...).


	6. Still nothing?

Hey everybody! Here's the next chapter I hope you like it.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Still nothing?**

The next morning found all of them at the lab bright and early. Cam and Brennan were examining the by now rehydrated woman who looked even more gruesome than before to Booth. He hoped they would find something.

Jack wanted to analyze the scrapings from under her fingernails and the samples of her stomach contents and her lung tissue, as well as the swipes he hadn't done yesterday. He also wanted to pinpoint the time the victim had been placed in the mausoleum.

Zach was doing a tox screen on some of the liver tissue, Cam had excised for him.

And Angela was still waiting for an answer from the missing persons files. Up to now, though, there didn't seem to be someone missing who looked like the victim. She was waiting for Zach, too, as they wanted to look at the CT scan of the body together, to see if they could find anomalies and thus a cause of death.

Booth fetched Angela's drawing – she had done it the night before after their dinner, when they had been sitting in the lounge talking – and the Angelator image of the dead woman, to ask the Glenwood Cemetery staff, if they had seen the woman in the pictures, though he truly doubted they had. After all, Brennan had said that she hadn't been there for very long, that she had been moved after her death. However, he had no other leads and so he was stuck with what they had: one of the crime scenes, even if it was not _the_ crime scene. At least he could ask a little bit more specific questions than the day before. He didn't even bother to ask Brennan to come with him, though. She was – without a doubt – more useful at the lab, helping with the autopsy. So he just left with the promise to be back soon.

As he had predicted no one at the cemetery had seen anyone who even remotely looked like the woman on the pictures he had brought with him. It was unbelievably frustrating and it made him wish, almost pray, that the Squint Squad came up with something. Anything to help him track down who this mysterious woman was and why she was dead.

"I'm sorry, I cannot help you," the last potential witness on the staff list said, like all the others had.

"Thank you anyway, Mr. Sands," he replied.

The man in front of him nodded and turned around to continue repairing the sprinkler system for the lawn.

De de de de dut de-dut.

It was Booth's cell-phone. Pulling it from his pocket and looking at the caller ID he immediately flipped it open. "Tell me you have something," he pleaded without preamble.

"Dude, what happened to your all-business 'Booth'?"

"Get to the point, Hodgins."

"Right," Hodgins said, "I looked at the insect activity again and I can tell you by the number of _dermestidae_ and the amount of epidermis damage that she hasn't been in that mausoleum for longer than three days. I thought that might help you asking the right questions."

"We'll see," Booth said, looking at his list again. "Thank you, Hodgins." He put the phone away, after the entomologist had uttered his 'any time'. Even though he hadn't understood every single word Hodgins had used (he guessed that dermes...what-was-it? was some kind of bug), one thing was clear to him: He'd have to start questioning the staff all over again, with little hope of a better result. Sighing heavily despite the new information he walked back in the direction from which he had just come. "Mr. Sands. I have a few additional questions."

The man lifted his head. "Yes, Agent Booth?"

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary in the last three to four days?"

The man thought again. "No, not that I can think of. Besides the discovery of that poor woman, of course. But I'm not here all the time. None of us are. We're keeping the park in order, you know, cut the grass, clean the head stones, gather fallen leaves. Once the day is over, though, we're leaving."

Booth nodded and handed the man one of his cards. "If you think of something, just give me a call."

The older man nodded, taking the card in his calloused hands. "Sure."

Booth walked back to his car and drove through the expansive grounds of the cemetery to the next potential witness. Asking the same question, gaining the same answer. Again and again.

He returned to the museum just as frustrated as he had left it in the morning, if not more. He had accomplished nothing. _Hopefully the Squint Squad has found something. Please, let them have found something useful_, he prayed again.

"Tox screen came up empty," Cam gave his hopes the first shove. "And we still don't know what caused the wounds on her legs."

Next were Zach and Angela with "We didn't overlook anything the first time we looked at her x-rays" and "Sorry, Sweetie. The missing persons databases have found nothing that fits the description of our lady so far".

And Hodgins was again shaking his head, muttering under his breath, "This doesn't make sense."

Not bothering to ask what didn't make sense, Booth turned to the last in the group. She was squinting intently into a microscope, face all screwed up.

"Tell me at least you found something useful, Bones," he pleaded.

Brennan didn't answer right away. Instead she scribbled something on a piece of paper with a pencil. He flinched slightly, when the pressure with which she wrote made the lead of it break. "Damn it."

"Jeez, Bones. Simmer down," he said and earned a frustrated glare from her. "I take that as a 'no'."

"That's right. I got nothing. Well, except that something penetrated her skin." She gestured for the microscope. "Wanna take a look?" She slid to the side in her chair and pulled the one next to her closer, so he would be able to look into the oculars.

He hesitated, but then sat down beside her nevertheless. "What am I supposed to see?"

"What you look at is a cross section of the skin in the region of the unidentified wounds."

Booth nodded and then looked through the eye-pieces. "How do I focus this thing?" he asked, seeing only a blur of white, blue and pink.

She took one of his hands and put it on the fine adjustment knob on the side of the microscope. "Just turn this carefully until the picture gets sharp."

He did and the blur in front of his eyes first got worse, but upon changing direction tiny structures appeared in front of his eyes. The structures seemed to be slightly destroyed in their integrity. The form of the destruction looked conically. "I'm assuming that is not how your skin is supposed to look, even when you're dead, mummified and rehydrated."

"That's correct." She gently pushed him to the side and changed the slide under the objective. When she had focused it, she made room for him again. "This is how her skin should look everywhere."

He took a look through the oculars again. The conical destruction had gone and the structure itself seemed to be more aligned, too. "So?" he looked at Brennan again.

"So, something very small penetrated her skin multiple times. It was shaped conically and in addition destroyed the integrity of the subcutaneous tissue." She leaned back in her chair and blew her cheeks, frustration evident on her face. "That's all I found today. I'm just better with bones, but hers appear to be completely integer." Turning to him again she asked, "And what did you find?"

"Um, 'I'm sorry, Sir, I don't know that woman.' 'No, I've seen nothing out of the ordinary in the last three days.' 'We're not here all day, you know?'"

"So, still nothing."

"Nope, nothing." Both sunk into their chairs and sighed in frustration.

"Let's have Zach and Hodgins check for some degenerating reagent in the skin, that isn't checked in the tox screen in general," she sighed, more than said, rising from her chair. "Come on." She pulled Booth to his feet as well. "It's the best I can think of at the moment."

On their way to find Zach they passed Hodgins' workstation. The entomologist was still shaking his head about something, but in contrast to Booth, Brennan addressed the curly haired man. "What's wrong, Hodgins? Found anything?"

"Yes, but I'm starting to believe I should stick with bugs and slime and forget about botany." He fixed his blue eyes on his colleagues. "All the organic particulates we found with our victim are algae, but some are not just any algae. _Durvillaea antarctica_, as I already knew yesterday." He pointed to a Petri dish to his left. "_Hormosira banksii_, better known as Neptune's Necklace." He pointed at a Petri dish with small dried out, ball-like plant rests, only to turn to the last of the Petri dishes. "And last of all _Durvillaea willana_. All of them are mostly found in the South Pacific area. Under water. I checked the aquaria in the region, but they don't have any of these seaweeds."

"Too bad," Booth said.

"Wait, I'm not ready yet. Her stomach contents are of indefinable origin, but probably herbal as well. I found yeast, too."

"Anything from under her fingernails?"

"Yeah, I found stuff that looks like neoprene. I'm right on that. After that I will check her lung tissue." And in the same breath he added, "Did I just say yeast and herbal?"

"Yeah, I believe you did. Why?" Brennan asked.

But Hodgins had already concentrated on something else. Typing furiously on his computer, checking his watch and then dialling on his phone. "Hey Dude, I hope this ain't too early for you."

"I guess we'll just have to ask Zach to check for those reagents," Brennan said shrugging and turning to search her fellow anthropologist.

"Wait, Bones," Booth called after her and then followed her, when she didn't react. "Bones. He seemed to have found something, why are we leaving now?"

"He will give you his findings, when he's ready for it, Booth. Give him time." They reached Zach and Cam, who were currently looking once again at the rehydrated mummy, hoping for some kind of insight. "We need to analyse the skin for degenerating reagents: chemicals, enzymes, whatever."


	7. Progress

So, here is the next chapter. I'm not that satisfied with it, but I hope you like it anyway.

I never did a 2D-electrophoresis myself and my knowledge is once again based on that popular internet encyclopedia, but if there are mistakes, they are mine.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Progress**

Dr. Jack Hodgins put the receiver, he had pressed to his ear for the past hour, down. His scientist friend Dr. Ron Schuller had promised him to send the for a comparison required analyses, as soon as he got hands on them, via email. Ron had suggested a possibility for the cause of the wounds on the dead woman's legs (and thus a COD) and now Hodgins' spirits had been considerably lifted with the prospect of achieving the title of 'King of the Lab' – if Ron's suggestion proved right.

Standing up he walked to the small laboratory, where Zach and him always made the experiments that drove their boss's boss up the wall (Cam by name). There he prepared an electrophoresis chamber, before he went to find Zach.

"Zach, we need to check for specific proteins in the victim's system."

"Dr. Brennan already requested an analysis of the skin for degenerative chemicals and/or enzymes," Zach replied, holding up a vial in which a small pale tissue piece sat. "I was just going to extract them." He held another vial up, labelled Triton X 100, which was used as a detergent to destroy the cell membranes, while keeping the proteins from denaturing into linear amino acid chains.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Hodgins snagged the first vial from Zach's hand and went in the direction of their lab, Zach trailing behind with his vial of detergent.

"Wait! What do you want to do?" Zach asked. "Do you want to combine isoelectric focussing with an electrophoresis in a denaturing polyacrylamid gel?"

"Dude, what do you think? A two-dimensional gel electrophoresis is the most efficient way to separate proteins, isn't it?" Hodgins set the skin sample down and snatched the other vial from Zach.

While Hodgins prepared their sample for the electrophoresis, Zach started to explain the method, even though Hodgins knew how it worked and wasn't listening. "First the sample with the proteins is put on a gel with a pH-gradient. There they will wander to the point where they are neutral to the outside, which is their isoelectric point in the electrical field. After this horizontal electrophoresis a second, now vertical, electrophoresis is added, which is basically an SDS-PAGE, a sodium-dodecyl-sulfate-polyacrylamid-gelelectrophoresis. The negatively charged SDS denatures the proteins, which bind SDS molecules and are thus charged negatively themselves. This way they will wander to the anode once a current is put to the gel. The bigger the protein the slower is its migration in the gel, which functions as a molecular sieve. The result is a three-dimensional splitting of the proteins."

"Thanks for the private turtoring," Hodgins said, giving the prepared sample in an Eppendorf tube back to Zach. "Now put that into practice, Z-man. I'll check, if I already received the analyses of my friend." He patted him on the shoulder and sat down at the nearest computer set, logging into his e-mail account. "Thanks, Ron," he muttered under his breath, when indeed the analyses where already there. He printed them and then fetched his analysis of the stomach contents. He switched from one print out to the other. "Damn, I'm good." Returning to the workstation where the electrophoresis chamber was set up, he put down the second print out and repeated, "Damn, I'm good."

"How so?" Zach asked, as he adjusted the voltage. He used a low voltage, as the heat produced by high currents would otherwise degenerate the proteins, just like when an egg was being cooked.

"I know, what she ate, just before she died."

Zach looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. "How does that qualify you as being 'damn... good'?"

"You'll see." With that Dr. Jack Hodgins left the lab again. The migration of the proteins in the gel to their isoelectric point would take a while and so he sat down and typed his report on the stomach contents, printed it and stuffed it into a manila folder, which was marked with the case number of the Jane Doe from the mausoleum. After that he looked at the neoprene from under her fingernails again, letting Zach handle the electrophoresis.

Things still weren't making that much sense, but they started to add up and all pointed in the same direction. Damn, he was good.

Meanwhile, Brennan looked at the CT pictures on the Angelator. She didn't really think it was necessary – after all Zach had been a very good student – but she had nothing better to do.

Neither had Booth. He had asked all the people on his list all the questions he could think of. He had done all the researches and background checks that made sense at the time. He could have done paperwork on older cases, but he was not in the mood. It was more fun – if paperwork could ever be called that – doing it with Brennan over take-out anyway.

"Can you enlarge her pelvis?" Brennan asked Angela, and shook Booth from his musings.

Angela nodded. She marked the pelvis and zoomed in.

"Her left _acetabulum_–" Temperance pointed to the part of the hipbone that was connected with the thighbone "–is smaller than normal, but not by much. She probably didn't even know."

"That's what Zach said, too," Angela commented.

Brennan already squinted at the front center of the pelvis, nodding absent-mindedly, while Booth said, "He learned from the best."

Angela nodded smiling.

Brennan didn't even notice the compliment. "Can you further enlarge the image?"

"A little," Angela answered. "What do you want to see?"

"_Symphysis pubica_," Brennan said, still squinting.

Angela nodded, moved her stylus on her touch panel and the region where the two hipbones met in the front grew in size. "That's as far as I can go before it will get too blurred."

"Thanks Angela," Brennan said, squinting even harder.

"Found anything?" Booth asked hopefully, stepping closer to the Angelator.

"I'm not sure," she said, "but she might have given birth." Turning to Booth she added, "I could tell for sure with the actual bones. Maybe Cam has found something that confirms that theory." She turned once more, this time walking away from the Angelator and in the direction of their boss's workspace.

Booth looked at Angela, who just shrugged her shoulders and then switched off her machine. "I guess you'll just have to follow her."

"I guess you're right." Booth smirked and followed Brennan out. He wasn't too excited about the fact that the victim might have been a mother, her kid now at least a half-orphan.

"Did you find any indication that she was pregnant and has given birth?" he heard Brennan's voice from the autopsy room. "The CT scan was a bit fuzzy at the _symphysis_."

"I haven't checked yet," Cam answered, when Booth joined them. "I found two haematoma the size of hands on her chest, though."

"So someone pushed her hard,..." Booth guessed.

Cam nodded. "Probably."

"...but that didn't kill her."

"Unlikely."

"That means: still no cause of death?"

"That's correct," Cam answered and looking back at the corpse, she added, "Then let's check, if she's been pregnant some time in her life."

Brennan nodded and put on a fresh pair of latex gloves, while Booth turned around and left, deciding that he wasn't that eager after all to see whatever they were going to do to find out, if she had given birth or not.

Zach and Hodgins were arguing whether to use 'Coomassie Blue' or silver to stain the gel and as Booth was in no mood for scientific discussions, he passed that lab and went straight back to Angela's Holographics Lab.

"Hey, G-man," Angela greeted him. "Long time, no see. Didn't Bren and Cam want to have you around?"

"Let's just say that I didn't want to be around, when they started their examination."

"Understandable." She stood up from the chair she had been sitting in and shed her lab coat. "Do you want to join me and get something of that black water they call coffee around here?"

"Let's go," Booth agreed.

When they returned – agreeing on the fact that just for this once the 'black water' actually tasted like 'real' coffee and even contained the right amount of caffeine –, Cam and Brennan were just exiting the autopsy room.

Booth looked at them expectantly and Brennan offered, "She did give birth. I'd say approximately three to five years prior to her death."

"And nobody misses her?" Angela asked.

"Well, having given birth doesn't necessarily mean that she had family," Booth said with sadness in his voice.

"Or that said child is still alive," Cam added quietly, thinking of her cousin's daughter who had died two months old from SIDS three weeks ago.

Her comment was drowned out by a cheer from Hodgins, that came from the lab, in which Booth had seen him working with Zach earlier. Soon after that Jack came walking their direction trailed by a confused looking Zach. "I think I have the cause of death," he announced excitedly, waving with a piece of paper.

* * *

I don't know, when I'll be able to update again. Even though I have a cause of death and an identity in mind, I didn't plan out the rest of the story. And school starts again next week. I'll try to update as regular as possible, but I won't promise anything.


	8. Cause of death

So, here I am again. Sorry for the _really_ long wait. Not only did school start, but I was invited to a university to tell them about my motivation to study medicine. And they admitted me! So, no life science assistant in Cologne anymore, but medicine at the Universitas Gryphis Waldensis. Woohoo!

Now all I need is a place to live up there...

Anyway. I hope this chapter makes sense even without any first hand knowledge on the topic (not even from my side).

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Cause of Death**

"_Chironex fleckeri_," Hodgins said triumphantly, as if those two words were common knowledge.

"What?" came the chorus from the others.

Booth looked at them surprised. He had assumed they'd understand each other, because usually they seemed to be speaking the same language. His hopes that for once he wasn't the only one left in the dark were shattered though, when Brennan clarified her question. "How is that even possible? Sea wasps aren't indigenous anywhere near here. Especially not in a place as dry as a mausoleum."

Hodgins smirked at her commentary. "You're right. But the toxins we found in her system? All in the venom of a sea wasp."

"That could explain the pattern of the wounds, too," Zach pondered, bending closer to the legs of the mummy. His curiosity as to what Hodgins had found was satisfied now.

"Guys, what are you even talking about?" Booth wasn't close to being able to follow.

"_Chironex fleckeri_ or the sea wasp is _the_ box jellyfish," Hodgins started to explain, pulling up an image of the species on a close by computer screen. "It's considered to be the most dangerous organism of the seven seas. Thus the name of the genus, which roughly translates as 'murderous hand'. Each year more people die due to its venom than due to a shark attack."

"There is an antivenom, but the victim has to be treated immediately, as death occurs very fast. Additionally the tentacles still on the victim's skin have to be taken care of, as more nematocysts-" a picture of a drop-like structure appeared on the screen filled with an arrow tip and a coiled tube, underneath that the arrow tip penetrated a line – skin probably – and then the tube was thrust out through the tip "-will discharge more venom, if triggered by, let's say, pressure. They can be removed easily with diluted acetic acid, though," Zach added.

"Customary vinegar," Brennan explained.

Cam jumped in. "The venom consists mainly of cardio- and neurotoxins, that will lead to spasms first in the limbs, then fast moving on to paralyse the muscles of the ribcage and the heart and thus leading to respiratory and cardiac arrest. If you survive, you still feel the excruciating pain, that's accompanied by the sting, and you'll be left with scars where the tentacles were due to the dermatonecrotic components." She pointed at the screen where Hodgins had pulled up a picture of a man's scarred leg. The pattern looked similar to that on the dead woman's legs. "And even if you are at a hospital on time, you may die of an anaphylactic shock caused by your reaction to the antivenom."

"Marine stingers are a huge danger to swimmers in the shallow water especially in the summer months, if the beach is not netted in to prevent the beasts from coming closer to the beach. They are almost undetectable being clear and only tinted light blue and their tentacles trail behind them for about three meters," Angela said and turning to Booth she added, "That's more or less ten feet."

"I'll never go swimming again," Booth said. "How do you know all this?"

"I've been diving at the Great Barrier Reef," Brennan said.

Hodgins lifted his hand. "Ditto."

"There was this documentary, when I was sixteen..." Zach looked up from the body. "I found it quite intriguing." He looked back down at the body.

Rolling his eyes, Booth turned to the last two of the team.

"My parents paid me a beach holiday after I graduated best from high school," Cam said.

"Beach holiday for me, too." Angela nodded. "You're safe to go swimming, by the way, just don't do it at unsafe beaches during October to May, while you're in _Australia_."

Brennan cut back to their body. "And that is exactly the problem in this case," she said, shaking her head, frowning. "For one she was found on the dry land, completely desiccated and secondly, and perhaps more importantly so, the sea wasp is indigenous in the tropical Indo-Pacific area, especially North-East-Australia. Neither the Atlantic Ocean nor rivers and it's never found in the temperate zone."

"How did you even get the idea to check for those toxins?" Cam wondered.

"The brother of a friend of mine analyzed the proteins found in the venom. My friend works at a forensics lab in Adelaide and I called him today to ask him about my theory on the stomach contents. I was telling him about how we couldn't figure out what had happened to the victim, too. He said if I were in Australia he'd have guessed 'sea wasp'. Told me to check, however improbable that sounded. I did, _et voilá_. COD." He grinned and under his breath added in Zach's direction: "King of the Lab."

"So are we to assume she died in Australia?" Booth asked for confirmation, even though he didn't really believe that theory would be correct.

"I know it sounds nuts, but it's the most probable scenario," Hodgins replied.

"What else did you find to confirm that?" Brennan asked. "Apart from the algae, I mean. Her stomach contents?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. Her stomach contents were bread with Vegemite." He handed Brennan his report.

"I loved that stuff," Angela said, "I haven't eaten it in ages, though. It's hard to get here."

"But you can get it anywhere in Australia," Booth stated, remembering that old 'Land down under' song.

"Yeah, it's considered a national food," Brennan wrinkled her nose. "I never liked it." She handed Cam the folder.

"Anything else?" Cam asked, sifting through the contents herself.

"Not really. Her clothes – a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, panties and a sports bra – were produced in Indonesia for a world wide selling company. Main component cotton," Hodgins said. "I haven't determined the origin of the neoprene from under her nails yet."

"Good," Cam said. "Continue on the neoprene. Zach, I want you to check her lung tissue. Angela, add having given birth to your list of markers for the search, even though the search still will more than likely come up empty in US databases." All three team members nodded.

"Bones and I will tell Cullen about our findings. He will not be pleased. This probably is now an international case and we need to contact the Australian authorities." Booth took Brennan by her shoulders.

"I'll send Angela's drawing and reconstruction to Ron – that's my friend. Perhaps he can do something about it unofficially," Hodgins said.

Booth nodded and then steered Brennan in the direction of her office. Angela and Hodgins disappeared to the Holographics Lab and Zach fetched the lung tissue and went up onto the platform, leaving Cam standing alone at the computer station that still showed the pictures of _Chironex fleckeri_. She shrugged and went to her own office.

* * *

"How did she end up here, if she died in Australia?" Deputy Director Sam Cullen asked.

"We don't know yet, Sir," Booth answered.

"But you are absolutely sure she died down under?" Cullen repeated his question once more.

"Yes. 99.9. We have evidence that proves that theory. The algae, the venom of the sea wasp, Vegemite... The most probable scenario is that she died in the Australian sea," Brennan said, handing over the case file of the dead woman.

Cullen ran a hand over the quasi non-existent hair on his head. He looked sceptically at the two partners, who looked at him seriously, and then took the folder Brennan offered him. "Why are your cases never straightforward?" he asked gruffly, looking at the file's contents. This case was going to be a great big mess. It was hard enough to get inter-agency cooperation in the US. There was no telling how it would be if the agencies in question weren't even the same country. Hell, not even the same continent. Two jurisdictions colliding – not good. Cullen rubbed his face with his free hand.

"Well, first of all, when I have to be called in, ..." Brennan started, but was interrupted by Booth's muttered 'rhetorical question, Bones' and fell quiet again.

Cullen looked up, slightly amused about the fact that after all that time Booth still had to correct Brennan. He sighed. "I'll contact the Australian authorities and let you know about your contact."

"Thank you, Sir." Booth stood up and Brennan followed him outside.

* * *

"I have to change cause of death." Zach lifted a piece of paper into the air, when Brennan and Booth entered the lab again.

"Why?" Hodgins asked, lifting his head from peering through one of the magnifying lamps. "She had enough of the venom in her system to die of cardiac and respiratory arrest."

"Yes, but before she could die of that, she drowned," Zach said, still holding the paper in his hand. "I found salt and plankton in her lung tissue."

"But she drowned, _because_ she was paralyzed by the jellyfish's venom," Jack insisted.

"But," Zach said, "she didn't die _directly_ from the venom."

"Stop it," Brennan said, took the piece of paper from Zach and summed up the information for Booth, "The amounts of sea salt and plankton in her lungs prove that she drowned."

"So..." Booth flipped his lucky poker chip and caught it mid-air. "...Someone pushed her into the water and she fell into the beast's tentacles. The venom paralyzed her and that someone didn't help her. She couldn't keep her head up above the water any more and drowned. Murder."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Booth," Brennan admonished. "The haematoma might not have been connected to her death. We can't really pinpoint how long the time span between receiving the bruises and drowning was. It could have been an accident, too."

Booth flipped his chip once again. "But why did she end up on the other end of the world, if it was just an accident?"

"Booth's right," Hodgins said, eyes glistening. This sounded a lot like conspiracy. At least it was a huge mystery to be solved.

"I suggest we determine who she was exactly, before we conjecture," Zach said and Brennan nodded in agreement.


	9. Identity

Here I am again. Next chapter is written, though I don't really like the first part of it, but didn't know how to better fill this chapter to the average length of about 1500 words. Now it's longer. So, anyway. Here it comes.

Again: I don't know anything about the things I write about. I must be crazy.

I hope you like and enjoy what I wrote.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Identity**

Waiting was a pastime that wasn't an easy task, especially if you had done everything on your own to-do-list. It didn't matter, if you were waiting at your dentist's or for your exams to start or for the results of those or those of your blood count. You were nervous, exited or simply bored without something useful to do with your time.

Booth and Brennan were waiting. They were sitting in the Royal Diner once again, pretending to drink cups of the delicious black brew they sold there.

There was no answer yet. Neither Cullen had called with a contact nor Hodgins' friend Ron with results – no wonder really, as it had to be in the wee hours of the morning down under. Nor had any of the other squints come up with anything else. Booth had no new witnesses to interrogate, nor was there any suspect to take into custody. Brennan didn't have anything else to look at, except perhaps the skeletons that were stored in limbo, but she didn't really feel like it.

Without an identity they seemed to be stuck in the investigation. A new lead was what they desperately needed. Hell, even with a lead they might not be able to do much, with their victim most probably being from half way around the world.

Even though whenever they were investigating a death – more often than not murder – someone had lost a loved one, the fact that the dead woman had been a mother – not the first one either – seemed to be weighing unusually hard on their moods.

Brennan's, because she knew how it was to lose a parent at a young age.

Booth's, because that wasn't something he wished any kid. It was hard enough to see his son torn between his separated parents.

He missed him and was looking forward to his next weekend with the little boy with a deep longing. Once the weekend came and Parker was around, he'd dread the end, when the young boy would have to return to his mother Rebecca. This woman's kid, though, would not be able to see his or her mother ever again.

He sighed. Depression lay on his features, despite this being not directly a kids case. Once again he became aware of how dangerous his and Brennan's jobs were, without them being in immediate danger. How important it was that he returned healthy – especially for Parker. He decided to go to his church in the evening and pray for health and safety for Brennan, Parker, Rebecca, the squints and himself.

And for the child that had lost his or her mother, wherever he or she was.

He took a sip from his coffee. It had become cold with their staring at each other and the table top without saying a word. He wrinkled his nose. Lukewarm coffee tasted bad, no matter if it was Jeffersonian- or FBI-bad or Royal-Diner-good before.

Brennan sighed, too. Her hands were wrapped around her mug. Pictures from her childhood played in front of her inner eye. Times of happiness. Russ and her building a sand castle at the beach. All of them at a picnic in the small park that was so close to their house. Playing Ludo in a stormy night.

They mixed with pictures of her parents leaving to do some last minute Christmas shopping, never to return. Her brother Russ turning around and leave, too. And the most recent memory of her just found criminal father and her brother leaving her behind once again, handcuffed to a wrought-iron bench.

A sense of loneliness washed over her. She knew exactly how the mummy's child might feel. She successfully forced the tears, that threatened to fall, back and swallowed them with a sip of cold coffee, that blended out their salty taste with its bitterness.

"What's up with you guys?"

They both looked up at the waitress – a name tag identified her as Sheila – who had approached their table without them noticing.

"Tough case," Booth answered and took another sip of the cold coffee.

Sheila nodded. "Then how about some pie to sweeten your day?"

"No, thank you."

Astonished Brennan turned to her partner. Booth never said 'no' to a piece of pie. Especially not if it was cherry pie, as the sign at the front door told the guests was today's flavor.

"Then let me at least exchange those cold cups of coffee for fresh ones. They can't be tasting good any more."

Brennan nodded, realizing surprised that the coffee she had just swallowed really was cold, and smiled weakly, pushing the mug into the waitress's hand. When Sheila had taken both cups and left, the anthropologist asked, "What's wrong, Booth?"

"I don't know, Bones," Booth said, "I mean this case isn't so much different from others we had. Someone died and left the loved ones behind. You're not that bright either, by the way."

Brennan shrugged. "Perhaps it's the fact that she was found so far away from home," she suggested. "In a place where no one knew her."

Booth shrugged. "Yeah, maybe." Not convinced. It probably was that they didn't have any clues to point them in any direction, too. But he didn't mention that.

They thanked the waitress for the fresh coffee and lapsed into silence once again. When they had emptied their cups, they paid and left the diner.

* * *

"We've got a name," Hodgins declared, receiver in hand, when Brennan and Booth came in through the electric doors. "Well, my friend from Australia got it." The printer started working and soon spit out a sheet of paper and the entomologist held it up for them to see. "Her name was Pirkko Kala."

Booth checked his watch, wondering what time it was down under. By his calculation it had to be in the early work hours of the next day. This Ron seemed to have good connections. Or forensics were workaholics all around the world. "What kind of name is Pirkko?"

"Finnish," Brennan said, taking the printout, while Hodgins put the phone on speaker. Looking at the photograph on the printout, she realized that Angela's drawing was as accurate as always, except for the freckles that settled on the woman's tanned cheeks and nose. "She was unwed, but she had a son who's living with his grandmother in Aquatic Paradise now. Pirkko was a marine biologist at the University of Queensland in Brisbane." She handed the sheet to Booth.

"She was reported missing almost two years ago. Never returned from a field trip."

"What was the trip about?" Cam wanted to know.

"Um, it's not mentioned here."

A tinny voice with an Australian accent came from the phone. "She was out on the sea, trying to determine the influence the ship traffic had on the reef north of Brisbane."

"This is my friend Dr. Ron Schuller," Hodgins introduced.

"It's Ron," the tinny Australian voice said. "Who's there besides you, Hodgins?"

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist," Brennan started, before Hodgins could answer. "Nice to speak to you."

"Dr. Camille Saroyan," Cam continued approaching Hodgins' computer set, which they had once again gathered around having been alerted to the new development by the entomologist's exclamation. "Forensic pathologist."

"Dr. Zach Addy, forensic anthropologist, too."

"Hi, Ron," Angela said. She and Zach had joined the gathering, too. "I'm Angela Montenegro, forensic artist."

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," the last of them said. "That's all of us."

"Nice to get to know all of you."

"How do you know what Pirkko Kala did?" Brennan wondered, skipping any further small talk.

"My little brother Tim studied marine biology in Brisbane, just like she did. They were close friends. Tammo adores him," Ron answered. The sadness in his voice was carrying from halfway around the world and through the tinny distortion.

"Tammo?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, Pirkko's son. He's six now. Tim is like an uncle to the boy," the Australian said, "He regularly visits Tammo and his grandmother. I guess Tim feels responsible."

"Why would he feel responsible?" Booth asked.

"He should have gone on that field trip with Pirkko, but he had an accident the night before they wanted to go out on the sea and he broke his leg. It was his own fault and Pirkko didn't want to postpone the trip, so she went alone... They found her boat two days later, just south of Gladstone."

"Gladstone?" Zach asked.

"Yeah, it's circa 500 kilometers north of Brisbane," Ron said and Hodgins pulled up a map of the Queensland coastline on the computer screen by the printer.

"That's over 300 miles," Cam translated.

Booth nodded and then asked, "Did they find anything on the boat to suggest what might have happened?"

"I don't know the exact report, but I think there wasn't much they found, and nothing to point in any direction specifically. My brother may know more. I'll give you his number. You should contact the Queensland police, too."

"I was planing to do just that." Booth got out his cellphone and went a few steps away, dialing Cullen to inform him of the new information, while Hodgins wrote down the telephone and cellphone numbers of his Australian friend's brother.

Now they had a new lead to follow. Hopefully with the desired success in solving the mystery of Pirkko Kala's death.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews by the way. And yes, saragillie, I did find housing, though I have to find something new next summer. But I really like the room I have for now.


	10. Long distance calls

I'm glad you like what I'm writing, gilmorefanforever. You asked for more, so here's the next chapter.

Enjoy, everybody.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Long distance calls**

"Schuller. G'day." Tim Schuller sounded a lot like his older brother.

If they'd been able to see through the glass fiber and satellite connection of the telephone, they would have realized that he even looked like his older brother. So much, in fact, that they were constantly mistaken for twins, starting with when they were both in their late teens. Back then Ron had always said, "Yeah, he felt so comfortable with mum, that it took him almost two years to realize that there was a world outside." And Tim would have punched him in the shoulder good-naturedly.

"How can I help you?" the younger Schuller brother asked, seeing a country code on the display of his phone he didn't know.

"I'm FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. With me is Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Ah, you're the ones my brother told me would call. The ones from the States."

"Yes, Mr. Schul..."

"It's Tim."

"Tim." Brennan nodded, even though the Australian wouldn't be able to see that. "Did your brother tell you why we're calling?"

"Yes," Tim said. "He did. You're calling about Pirkko." He paused and sighed. "You found her. Just not like we all were hoping."

"That sadly is right," Booth said. "We're sorry for your loss."

"Believe me, no one's more sorry than I am," he said sorrowful and guilt ridden. "I should have gone out to sea with her that day. Did my brother tell you why I didn't?"

"He mentioned an accident," Brennan said.

Tim snorted. "Yeah, accident my ass." He took a deep breath. "I had this stupid idea to check on the boat, which had already been checked thoroughly by Pirkko. Twice. It had just rained and the dock wasn't exactly dry. Neither was I. I had drunken just a little too much. It was dark and I slipped on the wet wood. My leg somehow got caught between a heavy steel boat and the dock. A small wave later my leg had a bone more," he said wryly, berating himself for his foolishness.

No one said a word. The guilt of the one left behind was evident in the Australian's voice. It was a guilt Tim would have to live with for the rest of his life even though there was no telling, whether it would have ended up differently, if Tim had gone out to sea with her, as no one knew what had happened exactly that day.

After a while Brennan broke the silence tentatively. "We were wondering, if you could help us pinpoint where she died exactly."

Both Booth and Tim perked up their ears. "Um, how so?"

"Well, she drowned and we found diatoms and other plankton in her lungs. In comparing the composition of those to compositions along the coast, we might be able to tell where she died," Brennan explained.

"I could certainly do that, if it helps," Tim answered, and Booth could hear that the other man felt slightly better. Now he would at least be able to help find the reason she died and perhaps find a little bit of peace. The agent shot Brennan a 'good thinking' look.

She smiled at her partner and added for Tim, "One of my co-workers will send you his analyzes."

"I'll be awaiting them," Tim said excited. "How do you want to send them? Tell you what, I'll just give you both the fax number at my lab and my email address." Brennan wrote both down. "Which compositions should I compare them to? From where she was headed to where her boat was found back in 2005?"

"That should do it for now. Cross-reference your results with the habitat of _Hormosira banksii_, _Durvillaea antarctica _and _willana_ and _Chironex fleckeri._"

"Box jellyfish? You found its venom in her system?"

"Yes," Brennan said.

"That makes it all the more tragic. She was fascinated by those creatures."

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"Yeah."

"As soon as Dr. Hodgins is ready, you'll have his results," Brennan promised.

"Thank you."

"We appreciate your expertise."

"Any time. I'll prepare for the taking of the samples now. It might take a while, though. At least we're lucky it's the same season at the moment."

"Thank you, Tim," Booth said and after saying 'good bye', Brennan cut the connection.

The phone immediately rang again. Brennan looked at Booth with a raised eyebrow, before taking the receiver once again. "Brennan."

"It's Cullen," the Deputy Director said. "Is Booth with you?"

"Good evening, Sir," Brennan said. "Yes, he's here, I'll put you on speaker." She pressed the button and put the receiver back down.

"Agent Booth, you might want to check your cell phone."

"Sir?" Booth searched his pockets for the device and then said apologizing, "I must have left it in the car."

A grunt came as the answer. "I've called the Queensland Police Service in Brisbane," Cullen said, "they agreed to send the file of Pirkko Kala. The investigating officer was Inspector John Smith..."

"Sir?" Booth frowned.

Cullen chuckled. "Yeah, I know, I couldn't believe it either, but it's his name. He even told me he wasn't the only one by that name ever on the force. Apparently a commissioner in the early fifties had the same name. Guy's kind of proud of that." He had the feeling of knowing the story of John's whole life. That was why he would normally let someone else deal with contacting the locals, but this case had become an international affair and thus he had to handle the contacts. Showing the other country some respect.

"So, did John Smith agree to help us?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, he did, Dr. Brennan," Cullen answered, "he was very eager, too. Seems like the disappearance of Pirkko Kala was his first case on the missing persons division. It always bugged him that he didn't solve it. He has since switched to homicide, by the way. His rank is superintendent now." He gave them the telephone number. Hopefully the inter-country-inter-agency cooperation would work better than the US American inter-agency cooperation often did.

"Thank you, Sir."

Brennan ended the call and looked at Booth. "Let's call him then, shall we?"

Booth nodded and Brennan started dialing: Country code, followed by regional and city code and finally the actual connection. "Let's see, if we get to know more about his life than Cullen did."

Brennan smirked. "It's probably going to be a _long_ call."

"This is Superintendent John Smith, Homicide Investigations, Queensland Police Service, Brisbane," an enthusiastic voice told them, almost immediately after the first dial tone, "and yes, that is my real name."

Looking at Booth with a once again raised eyebrow, Brennan put the phone on speaker. "Mr. Smith, my name is Dr. Temperance Brennan. With me is FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. Deputy Director Sam Cullen gave us your number."

"You are calling about Pirkko Kala, my first case on missing persons. It always bugged me that I couldn't find her. So, you found her?"

"That's correct," Brennan said, rolling her eyes at Booth. It _was _going to be a long call.

In the background they could hear the buzz of a lively bullpen. Telephones ringing, someone shouting, someone still used to old fashioned typewriters hacking the keyboard of a computer to little pieces. Brennan wondered why a superintendent had to work in a bullpen instead of in his own office.

"She was found here in Washington, DC," Booth added. "We're trying to figure out the circumstances of her death and how she ended up in the United States."

"So, it comes quite handy that I just transferred to Homicide, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Booth said, non-committal, without really acknowledging the handiness of that transfer.

"Do you already know the cause of death?"

Brennan looked at Booth again. Hadn't Cullen already told him that? "Yes. She drowned after being paralyzed by the venom of _Chironex fleckeri_." She was answered with silence. "Sea wasp."

"Ah. How do you figure it was murder then?" Confusion had crept into the voice of the freshly promoted superintendent. He was probably thinking that it wasn't his job to investigate an accident.

"Well, for one we found haematoma on her chest," Booth answered, telling Brennan to keep quiet about her concerns with a swipe of the hand across his throat. Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

"And secondly?"

"If it _was_ just an accident," she said, using Booth's line of argumentation from before, "then why did she end up in DC?"

Booth grinned at her. _See? _he seemed to ask without words.

"I can see where you're going with this," John Smith said. "You're making this a homicide to be able to keep on investigating."

"It most probably was more than a simple accident, as she died in Australia and was found in the United States," Brennan rephrased her earlier comment, her speech slower and more articulate than before.

"How do you know?"

"The sea wasp isn't indigenous anywhere near the United States, especially not at the Atlantic Coast. There is no aquarium in the region that has a combination of all the species we found – algae and jellyfish – much less in one basin," Brennan explained.

"Yeah, and she was found mummified on dry land, not in the water," Booth added. "So, we're pretty certain she died some place else than she was found."

"What else did you find?"

"Not much yet," Brennan said, "Clothes were basics from an international company. Under her nails was some kind of neoprene, origin not yet identified. She ate a Vegemite sandwich a short time before she died."

"Is that everything already?" the Australian superintendent asked disbelievingly and perhaps just a little impressed.

Brennan frowned. "Um, no. We're identifying the plankton we found in her lungs, too, to pinpoint the place she died with the assistance of a marine biologist from the University of Queensland."

"You sure work efficiently, Dr. Brennan." Now the superintendent definitely was impressed.

"Yeah, all the squints do." Booth uttered.

"Squints?"

"People with high IQs and basic reasoning skills," Brennan said.

"People who squint at things. Scientists," Booth said.

"I like my definition better."

"But mine describes the origin of the word better."

"Etymology."

"Whatever. Back to the case. Cullen said you'd agreed to send us a copy of the case file."

"Yes, it's already on its way. Right about now it's being faxed to the Jeffersonian Museum."

"Including the analyzes of Pirkko Kala's boat?" Brennan wanted to know.

"Yes, including that."

* * *

I don't know any police officer (superintendent, inspector, commissioner, ...), much less any Australian, so my John Smith – like all my other characters (Tim, Ron, Mr. Sands, Sheila, Pirkko, ... the list will get longer) – is purely fictional. Also, I don't know about inter-agency-cooperation in the States, though at least on NCIS there seems to be a rivalry between the FBI and the NCIS.

About the Schuller-brother-twin thing: My sister and I were donating blood at the DRK (well I was, she accompanied me) and the assistant medical technician asked, if we were twins. My sister's almost three years younger than I am. So, it happens.


	11. Secret Languages

**Hey there. Here's the next chapter.**

**Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 11: Secret languages**

Brennan had left to retrieve the fax as soon as it would reach them and let Booth finish the call. Somehow John Smith had succeeded in bringing up his namesake Commissioner John Smith and his resulting dream early on to be a commissioned officer for the Queensland Police Service himself. Booth silently doubted, though, that the young man would make it to commissioner. He had learned about life in Australia and especially Brisbane, which apparently John had never really left – thus probably his excitement about receiving a _very_ long distance call –, and about John's family – his sister was working for the water police, his mother as a nurse in a hospital, his father was lost on sea –, before Booth had been able to end the call without being overly rude.

He leant back in his chair and massaged his temples. He wondered seriously how John Smith had made it to Superintendent.

Brennan came back with a stack of papers from the fax machine in Cam's office. She looked at Booth worriedly as he still had his eyes closed and was running his thumbs over his temples. "You okay?"

Booth opened his eyes and let his hands fall to his lap. "Yeah, just a headache, thanks to John Smith." He smirked. "I guess now I really do know more about his life than Cullen. I wonder how he made it to commissioned officer."

"Written exams, probably." Brennan looked down at the copies of the handwritten reports she held in her hands. "He knows how to write. His reports are detailed and elegantly phrased, though there doesn't seem to be much that really helps us." She sifted through the papers, until she came to typed writing and a forensics lab's logo on the top of the pages, and handed Booth the handwritten ones, before sitting down behind her desk.

"He writes almost like a girl," Booth commented on the neat handwriting that filled most of the pages.

"Maybe, but at least you can easily read what he writes. In the beginning I had serious problems with your handwriting."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say, to me it was easier to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs than your scribble. I got used to it though."

"I, at least, use no code, like Hodgins does," Booth said remembering how Angela had been the only one to be able to decipher his notes, when Hodgins and Brennan had been buried alive.

"True, but he is a conspiracy theorist. Let him have his fun with codes as long as he gives us decoded reports in the end."

Booth smirked wryly at that, but said nothing, not wanting to remind her of the Gravedigger, and instead just listened to what she explained.

"Through out history there have always been parts of the society who used secret languages, travelling hawkers for example, to separate themselves from the others, sometimes resulting in today's dialects. Besides, I bet as a child you've had your own code, too. I know I did. We modified the regular letters, made our own hieroglyphs, so to say. We had our own signing alphabet and our own spoken language modification, too. Though, that was quiet easy to decipher in hindsight," Brennan said, smiling at the memory, "It's a normal kind of protest, of wanting to be able to have secrets from your parents, while growing up. Parker will start with that, too, if he hasn't already." She looked at the reports and turned the page.

"Yeah, he speaks with his friends in the 'B-language'. Whatever that is."

"Probably similar to what Russ and me used, too. Add a consonant – b in this case – after every spoken vowel and then repeat the vowel. With diphthongs you insert the consonant after the first sound and after it you speak both." She looked up from the forensics lab's papers. "Easy to learn, if you know the rules, but hard to follow, if you don't," Brennan said and then spoke something that sounded exactly like his son's language, as rhythmic and flowing. And as unintelligible.

"What?"

Brennan repeated what she had said decisively more slowly this time, "Ibi bebet ibit sobounds ababobout libike thibis. Ribight?"

"Yeah, it sounds exactly like that," Booth said, suppressing a chuckle. It was funny to hear an adult woman speak in such a childish manner, especially if that woman was Dr. Temperance Brennan. "But don't use that with me. It's hard enough to understand your normal squint talk."

Brennan smiled. "It was fun, but eventually we stopped using the language, because we had the suspicion that our parents understood everything anyway. You'll understand Parker, too, in a while. You'll see." Her smile became a sad one and she looked unseeingly down at the reports in her hands. "I miss them. All of them."

"I know, Bones," Booth said, laying a hand on top of hers. "I know."

She took a deep breath and started speaking again, her voice steady as if memory hadn't just almost smothered her. "They found no blood or other body fluids on the boat."

Booth took the hint and, removing his hand from hers, looked down at John Smith's handwritten notes. "As far as Tim was concerned there was also nothing missing from the boat. Except Pirkko, that is."

"On the keel were slight abrasions, but they couldn't tell what made them for sure. They supposed it was the sand, when it hit the shore. No sign of a struggle." Brennan looked up and turned the next page. "I don't think these forensics reports will help all that much either." Both started reading again, a short time later Brennan spoke up again, "Wait. This sounds promising."

Booth looked at her slightly creased features. "How so?"

"Here's noted that there were marked water samples on the boat. If they are still there, we might be able to reconstruct where Pirkko was before she died. If they haven't already been analyzed, let's hope that we can still figure out the plankton composition." She smiled. "It would make Tim's job easier."

"Huh?"

"Well, if you take samples you mark them with date, time and location of retrieval. That way you can later on identify where which sample came from and draw your conclusions from that."

"Like with evidence."

"Yes, except it doesn't really make sense to photograph the water before you take the sample."

Booth rolled his eyes.

"If we're lucky, Pirkko even used GPS coordinates."

Booth took the receiver of Brennan's phone in his hand and then stopped. "Is there a list of what was written on the water samples?"

"Yes, but it's a list of abbreviations I don't know."

"Secret language, eh?" Booth asked and chuckled. "You and Hodgins, call Tim. See if you can figure out Pirkko's code." He waved his stack of handwritten notes. "I'll call Mrs. Kala in Aquatic Paradise." Putting the stack down, he started dialing, clearly dismissing Brennan from her own office.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, this is my office, Booth, therefore my telephone..."

He waved her outside, grinning. "Find Hodgins."

Brennan shook her head, stood up and left her office with the reports to find Hodgins, while Booth waited for someone to pick up the telephone down under. Usually he'd prefer to talk to the family in person, but with thousands of miles between DC and Aquatic Paradise that was something not really practicable.

When the phone was finally answered, he got someone he didn't expect to answer.

"_Hyvää paivää._" It was the upbeat voice of a young boy that sounded from the receiver. And even though Booth didn't understand a single word, he was immediately reminded of his own son. He frowned, wondering what kind of secret language the boy was using. It sure was more complicated and made less sense than Parker's B-language. Tentatively he tried English, "Hi. You're Tammo I assume. May I speak to your grandmother?"

"_Joo_," the answer came and then a clunk told him that the boy had put the receiver down. He heard little feet running away and then muffled the boy's voice again. "_Mummu! Puhelin!_"

"_Tulen, Tammo. Tulen._" The woman's voice was deep, kind and warm. She seemed to be talking the same language as the boy. "I'm coming. You should answer the telephone in English. Most of those who call don't speak Finnish." The cadence of her English words was sinking from the beginning of each sentence to its end and Booth wondered how that was possible.

"_Selvä, mummu!_" the boy said anyway and Booth pictured his grandmother ruffling his hair affectionately. So, it was no secret language after all, just a foreign one.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Kala?" Booth waited for confirmation before continuing, "I'm FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"I apologize for my grandson's behaviour, Agent Booth. He just loves speaking Finnish." Mrs. Kala sighed. "He's so much like his mother. I believe it's her you're calling about?" If that sentence was a question, which Booth assumed, even that ended deeper than it begun. "Tim Schuller told me someone from the FBI would call."

"That's right. I'm sorry for your loss, Ma'am."

"It's what I expected anyway. She wouldn't have abandoned Tammo just like that. It's been almost two years now after all." Her voice was sad and resigned. "But it's nice to have it finally confirmed. Even though I'm wondering why you would find her in the United States of America."

"That's what we're wondering, too," Booth admitted. "We found evidence that suggests she died in Australia, though."

"If she died here, how ...?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Booth said. "Do you know Glenwood Cemetery?"

"No, I've never heard of it," the elderly woman said, "Where is that?"

"It's an old cemetery in Washington, DC."

"I've never been to the States, Agent Booth. I came to Australia just after Pirkko's birth. I never left the country afterwards. And never left Europe before that."

* * *

I hope you liked this chapter.

The secret language, 'b-language', is a language we used as children ourselves, though in German (B-Sprache) of course.

For those of you who are even less fluent in Finnish than I am, here's the translation of the words:

Hyvää päivää – good day

joo – yes

mummu – grandma

puhelin – telephone

tulen – I'm coming

selvä! – alright

I hope they are correct. I'd love to learn Finnish for real, but don't seem to have the time. I had nine lessons almost two years ago and it was fun, but the only things left in my brain seem to be the numbers till ten and the (annoying) Väinö-song.

The next chapter will take longer to write as I'll have to do a lot of research to make up that code Pirkko uses.

Until then, KALIBER DREIUNDZWANZIG

S.

(_Väinö, Väinö, missä on se Väinö?..._ There it is again, stuck in my ear forever...)


	12. Decoding

**Hey. I know it's been a long while, but here's the next chapter. I didn't put as much research into it as I planned to. I hope it's plausible anyway.**

**Enjoy.**

**

* * *

Chapter 12: Decoding**

"I'm in!"

Brennan watched Hodgins rubbing his hands in excitement after she had explained what she wanted to do. Smiling she shook her head. She hadn't expected any less from him.

"Where is it?"

She handed him the list of letters and numbers, which the conspiracy theorist immediately started to scan with his eyes. "So, this was written on the water samples Pirkko's taken," he stated after a while.

"Yes, at least that's what the forensics report says." She stepped closer to him, both now standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the platform in the centre of the laboratory, where she had happened to run into the entomologist after having been dismissed from her own office by Booth. "Some of those numbers have to be for time and date, the others are probably coordinates of the location of retrieval, but I don't know which is what and I don't know about the letters."

"I see," the curly haired entomologist said and looked up at her. "Then let's find out."

"What are you two up to? And where's the G-man?"

"Decoding. In my office talking to Mrs. Kala," Brennan answered without looking up at her best friend, eyes glued to the list in Hodgins' hands.

Angela nodded. "What are you decoding?"

"Pirkko labelled her water samples. We're trying to make sense of that," Hodgins explained, looking at Angela with a broad smile and an exited twinkle in his blue eyes. Then he directed his gaze back to the list and read aloud, "'CP 024457 S 153045 E 162001 TOU 05'."

"And she wrote all that on just one sample?" Angela asked.

Brennan nodded. "At least the report says so."

Hodgins nodded, too. "'HI 023264 S 151546 E 094030 HUH 05'. Wanna take a look?"

Angela answered Hodgins' question by holding out her hand. She received the list and scanned it, too, while Brennan offered what she assumed was coded in the letters and numbers, adding after that, "'E' is probably for East and 'S' for South. At least they appear on every label."

The couple nodded. "Makes sense, but which is the corresponding coordinate and what are the other letters for?"

Suddenly Hodgins clapped his hands and snatched the list from Angela's hand.

"Hey!" Angela protested, but Hodgins had already scanned himself onto the platform and had sat down at the nearest computer set.

"What did you find?" Brennan asked, after sharing a curious look with Angela and then scanning herself and Angela onto the platform, too.

Hodgins had pulled up a map of the Australian East coast. "We should probably just compare the numbers to coordinates around Australia. That way we can sort out the numbers which cannot be coordinates and thus have to be the date."

"Good idea," Brennan said and leaned closer to the screen. "Perhaps that gives us an answer to what the letters are, too."

Hodgins nodded and started to type, combining different duos of the six-number-combinations.

Their gathering once again attracted Zach and Cam, whom Angela introduced to their theory, upon which everybody looked expectantly at the screen.

"So, the Australian East Coast has coordinates around the 20's of Southern Latitude and around the 150's of Eastern Longitude."

Zach scanned the list that lay by Hodgins right elbow. "So, the letters for East and South probably stand behind the corresponding coordinates," he concluded and Brennan nodded.

"Now, the letters," Angela said. "Perhaps the first two are an abbreviation for a landmark that's near the retrieval location."

Hodgins nodded and typed in the first coordinates of the list. "So, 24 degrees, 45.7 minutes Southern Latitude and 153 degrees, 4.5 minutes Eastern Longitude direct us to...," he pressed the enter-key and waited. Everyone held their breaths. "Coral Patch as in CP." He typed in the next combination and again pressed the enter-key. "And 23 degrees, 26.4 minutes Southern Latitude and 151 degrees, 54.6 minutes are Heron Island as in HI."

"Now that we have solved that, let's turn to the end of the code," Cam said. "There's still six numbers, three letters and then two numbers again." She pointed at the columns. "As the last numbers don't change, I'm assuming it's the year. '05' for 2005."

Zach spoke up again, "Let's also assume that the letters stand for the month as there are only two different letter combinations – TOU and HUH. Even though it can not be the tactical system of time and date which the military uses, it at least seems to be similar. The first four numbers have to be the time. 16:20 and 9:40. The remaining numbers are the day in the month."

"So, the first on the list is Coral Patch, where she was on the first of TOU. The second is Heron Island where she was on HUH the thirtieth," Angela summed up. "But how does Pirkko get from a month to TOU and HUH?"

"Her name is Finnish, isn't it?" Cam asked.

"Yes," Brennan answered and, picking up on where Cam was headed, turned to Hodgins. "I bet Pirkko could speak that language just as well as English. Pull up a translation site."

Hodgins did and then let all months run through it. "It's April and May," he said after a while. "April is 'huhtikuu' in Finnish and May is 'toukokuu'."

"Now that we have solved this puzzle, get to work again everybody," Cam said. "One of us is enough to reconstruct her route. And I believe that you have still enough particulates and swipes to analyse, so you're not the one." That last, sterner sentence was directed at Hodgins who had already started to type away on his keyboard again.

He stopped and looked up at Cam like a little boy who was told that he wasn't allowed to play with his new toy any more.

"I'll do it," Angela offered, holding her hand up.

"Good."

"I'll help Hodgins," Zach said and the two scientists stepped down from the platform and walked to their joined lab in silence, while Angela sat down at the computer.

"I'll call Tim Schuller and let him know about the new development," Brennan said, turning to leave the platform, too, "And then I'll check in with Booth."

Cam nodded. "That leaves me with the corpse or paperwork."

"Not an easy choice," Angela said, looking sideways at her boss, while pressing enter once again. "But I'd pick the latter. At least it doesn't stink. So, even though I don't like either, corpses are definitely worse."

The pathologist smiled at the artist. "Compelling logic. I'll think about it," she said and left the platform, too.

* * *

"Yes, ok, but I'm still at the Jeffersonian."

When Brennan came back to her office after she had called Tim, she caught the tail end of a telephone conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with their case. She looked at her watch. Almost five. Another work day had gone by without her really noticing it. She watched Booth look at his own watch.

"Yeah, that's fine. Bring him over." He looked up somehow sensing that someone stood in the doorway and seeing that it was Brennan he smiled at her. "No, they should be packing the stuff up for the day now." He listened again. "Yes, of course, I'll make sure."

From Booth's answers Brennan draw the only logical deduction that he was talking to Rebecca, who would be bringing Parker over. Surprised she realized that it was Friday again.

"Bye, Becca." As soon as he had closed his phone, Brennan spoke up, "The lab is as child friendly as it can get. As long as Parker doesn't feel the need to open closed doors, he should be fine." She smiled at him and then sat down behind her desk.

Booth raised his eyebrows, but smiled, too. "He won't. So, any luck in decoding the labels?"

Brennan nodded. "Yes, it was a joined effort, though. Angela is reconstructing Pirrko's route now."

"Angela?"

"Yes," Brennan answered and then grinned. "Hodgins wanted to, but Cam told him that there were still swipes to be processed."

"So, with 'joined' you mean the whole Squint Squad."

"Sure." Brennan nodded once again.

"Including Tim?"

"No, but I informed him about the results. We could check how far Angela is with the list." She suggested. "What did Mrs. Kala tell you?"

Booth stood up and stretched. "Not much. Just that she somehow knew that Pirkko was dead, because she wouldn't just leave Tammo like that." He motioned for her to stand up, too, as a smirk spread on his lips. "The little boy answered the phone in Finnish and I thought he was talking a secret language after all our talking about those."

Chuckling Brennan stood again, too, and they both left her office, to find Angela just coming their direction.

"I'm heading home, if you've got nothing else for me. I checked the last written labels." She handed Brennan a piece of paper on which was a decoded version of half of the labels, ending on May the 5th 2005.

"Thanks, Angela."

"Don't stay too long, Sweetie." She turned to Booth. "Make sure she doesn't G-man."

Booth charm-smiled her. "I'll do my best."

"Daddy!"

All three of them turned at the voice. Parker was running in their direction with his blonde curls flying. Behind him Rebecca followed carrying his backpack.

"Hey Bub," his father answered, when he caught him in his arms.

"Hey Angela," the boy said and then turned to Brennan in his father's arms. "Hey Bones."

"Hibi Pabarkeber," Brennan said with a soft smile. Angela raised one of her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

"Yobou caban tabalk bebe-labanguabage, Bobones?" Parker exclaimed round-eyed.

"Subure."

"Stop it you two," Booth groaned, while Rebecca looked at her with surprise and interest. Angela just grinned.

"Whyby?" Parker asked. "Ibit's fubun!"

"Yebes, ibit ibis," Angela said, her grin now even wider. The reaction was surprise from Parker and Brennan, and another groan from Booth. "But it's fairer, if we talk normal for your Mom and Dad. Don't you think?"

"I guess," Parker said, his eyes cast down.

Rebecca leaned in to Brennan and Angela, asked how they knew that language and received the answer that it was a secret language of themselves, when they were a little older than Parker.

Suddenly Parker's eyes lit up again and he started to squirm in his father's arms. "Can I see your mummy?"

Rebecca looked at Booth frowning, but he just shrugged and set the boy on the ground again.

"The one in my office?" Brennan asked. Parker nodded. "Sure." And the boy took of in the direction of her office.

"I thought you said everything was packed up?" Rebecca asked the father of her child.

"It is," Brennan said, before Booth could answer, "The mummy he wants to see is displayed in my office like a piece in a museum. There's nothing gross about it."

"It's okay," Angela said to Rebecca. "I need to go now, though. There's a vernissage of a friend this evening."

"Have fun, Angela," Booth said.

"I will."

* * *

Okay, that's it for now. I hope you liked what I put into your boot for Saint-Nicholas-day (German custom on the evening of December 5th is for children to put an empty boot in front of their door. If they've been good, it will be filled with sweets, nuts and fruit in the morning).


	13. On Display

**Hey everybody,**

**I decided to post something again. After all I just mastered my first two 'Testate' in Anatomy and Histology/Embryology. And I don't know how, because I didn't know even half of what I should have known. These 'Testate' are the reason, that I wrote nothing for all this time, but know I don't want to hear anything containing the words 'musculus', 'nervus', 'vena' or 'arteria'. So you're getting a new chapter, even if it is only some kind of filler.**

**Enjoy.

* * *

**

**Chapter 13: On display**

"Is this a Pharaoh? From Egypt?" Rebecca asked, looking at the mummy with curiosity. Her need to make sure Parker would be alright almost forgotten.

Brennan shook her head and was about to answer, but was beat by the youngster in the room. "No, Mommy." His voice sounded almost condescending. "It's a Mayan chief. He was buried in his best clothes and they gave him a cocoa mug, so that he wouldn't be thirsty on his journey to his ansisters." He looked up at Brennan and found her smiling.

"Ancestors," she corrected him.

"Yeah." He nodded, his blond curls bobbing, before he summed up, "The Pharaohs weren't the only ones being buried as mummies."

"That's right," Brennan said, "though some of the mummies that are found are merely products of the climate, rather than being mummified artificially like the ancient Egyptians did."

Parker frowned, but nodded looking at the mummy again. "Look, Mommy, he has earrings made from jade and obe...obe..."

"Obsidian," Brennan said and Parker nodded again.

"How often has he been here?" Rebecca asked suspiciously.

"In this office? Once, I think. Booth had to make a call," Brennan said and shrugged, "Parker asked me about him–" She pointed at the Mayan mummy. "–I answered. He's a smart boy."

Parker turned around to the adults and grinned at them, prompting them to laugh.

A short time later – Rebecca had already left after realizing that it was later than she had thought – Booth and his son were walking back to Booth's SUV to head home for a pizza and a movie.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Bub?"

"Can we go to the museum tomorrow?" Parker asked. "There was a poster and Mommy said that there was written that there were a lot of mummies here right now. I want to see them."

"Sure. If that's what you want."

"Cool. Can Bones come, too?"

"You'll have to ask her," Booth answered.

Parker spun around running back into the Jeffersonian, leaving his father in the parking structure.

"Parker, come back. We can call her." But Parker had already disappeared behind the door to the stairs. "Great." Booth changed direction, too, and followed his son.

"Bones!" he heard his son call, when he reached the doors to the lab.

"Parker. Is everything alright?"

The boy nodded. "Will you come to the museum with us tomorrow? I want to see the mummies and Daddy said to ask you. You know more about mummies than he does."

"Um, um, I...," Brennan stuttered.

"Sorry, Bones," Booth said. "He got a bit overly exited."

"No, it's okay." She looked down at the boy. "I'd be glad to come."

"Yay," Parker exclaimed, punching his fist into the air. "We're gonna have so much fun."

* * *

Angela studied the painting with a contemplative frown in her brow. She'd been at the vernissage for about an hour now.

But she wasn't thinking about the paintings at all. Something had send her brain into overdrive, somewhere deep down, but she couldn't really tell what it was.

Wondering what had been the cause for her contemplations, she absent-mindedly twirled her empty Champagne flute in her right hand and stared at the abstract painting of a yard sailing boat in full sails. Or at least she thought it was. Her gaze drifted to the small sign underneath the painting. 'Bounty' was written there. So, it _was_ a sailing boat.

She shook her head and moved on to the next painting, but she still couldn't rid the feeling that she was missing something. Something important. She just didn't know in which context.

Engaging in small talk with other guests of the vernissage, drinking another glass of Champagne and looking at her friend's art, she somehow found herself in front of 'Bounty' again. She frowned. Why was she here again? She didn't even really like it. To be honest it was her least favourite painting of the whole display. 'My subconsciousness must be trying to tell me something,' she thought once again, cocking her head to the side and squinting her eyes. 'But what?'

"Do you like it?" Her friend – his name was Okke, an homage to his Frisian roots – had stepped up to her, without her noticing it and she almost dropped her glass at his sudden question.

"Huh? Sorry." She smiled at him apologizingly.

The tall, lean and dishwater blond man repeated his question, his blue eyes looking inquiringly at her. Damn, what should she answer? Neither 'yes' nor 'no' seemed to be an option. She settled for a vague "I haven't decided yet", hoping that would satisfy him.

"Neither have I," he said, leaving Angela to wonder why he had put it in the display then. "But I somehow felt it should be among the others," he added after a short pause.

"It seems to have magnetic powers on me for some reason," Angela commented, "I think I've gone by it at least five times, without consciously deciding to do so."

"Then you're the reason I had to hang it in between all these other works."

Angela laughed. "Yeah. Though I don't know why. I have the feeling, I'm missing something, yet I don't know what."

"Anything that has to do with 'Bounty'?"

"Yes. No. Perhaps. I don't know." She looked at him desperately. "I honestly don't know."

"You know what? I'll give it to you, as long as you tell me afterwards, if it helped you solving the mystery of your feeling."

Angela took out her purse.

"No, I don't want anything from you."

"But it's here to be sold," Angela objected.

"That doesn't matter. I've sold enough of my other work already." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't think there are that many interested in this particular painting." They looked around themselves. At every single painting stood a group of at least four guests. Every painting except 'Bounty', where Angela was the only one.

She smirked. "I see your point."

"I'll let the painting be delivered to your apartment and now I'll leave you alone to your thoughts."

"Thanks, Okke."

"Any time, Angie." He waved and left.

Angela stood at the painting for another ten minutes, before deciding that she wouldn't be able to find out what it was that escaped her grasp. Again she engaged in small talk and looked at the other paintings.

She laughed quietly, when she realized that Okke still added a little yellow and red lighthouse to every painting, no matter if it fit the scene or not. He always found a space where it didn't seem completely out of place. It was his unique way of signing his artwork ever since she knew him.

* * *

"And where's that from?" Parker walked around the glass box where the mummy of a cat was on display.

"Here. They found it in a storage room."

Parker looked up at Brennan with round eyes. "Really?"

Brennan nodded. "Yes. The cat died and the air in the storage room was dry to preserve the colours of old paintings and clothes. The dry air ultimately preserved the cat, too. As a mummy." After about an hour in the exhibit she had gotten to the point of being able to almost talk in a way that Parker would understand immediately.

Booth smiled. He'd learned much about mummies and now understood better how Pirkko might have become one herself. He was amazed, though, that Parker still was energetic and interested in what Brennan explained to him.

"This one was found in an air tight part of a stranded ship," Brennan explained.

"Where did it strand?" Parker asked.

"Alaska."

"It's cold in Alaska," Parker stated. "And there are polar bears and caribous."

"Yes." Brennan said. "And in this case the coldness and the dry air in the ship preserved the man."

"But it was _hot_ dry air with the mummy in your office." Parker frowned, studying the man behind the glass.

"It can be both, as long as it is dry and the normal process of breakdown of the body after death is put to a hold. In fact, if it is cold enough, it works even better, because the bacteria and insects that normally help break the body down don't like it cold. They prefer it warm."

Parker frowned.

"Bacteria are very small little creatures, that you cannot see, Bub," Booth explained and Parker nodded.

They walked on and the boy pointed at the center display of the whole exhibit. "Who's that?"

"That's Ötzi," Brennan said. "He's from Europe. He died on a mountain over 5000 years ago and then he froze being covered by lots and lots of snow and ice. He was discovered not even twenty years ago."

"That's a long time." Parker stated. "And he doesn't really look different from the ship man over there." And he walked on, leaving a confused Brennan behind.

"But there's so much more to say about Ötzi," she told Booth.

"He's five, Bones. His attention span isn't that wide yet." Booth told her, when they started to follow Parker to the next show case. "I'm surprised he even still listens to what you say."

"You're bored." Brennan stated.

"No," Booth disagreed. "It's just that normally _he_ would already be bored-" He looked at his watch. "-for almost an hour, but he isn't and that's great. You're doing everything right."

"Bones!"

"We're coming, Bub," Booth called in a museum fitted volume and then smiled at Brennan. "Come on. He's still interested in what you can tell him. He just doesn't think Ötzi is that thrilling."

"But he is."

"Not for him. After all he looks just like the ship man." They reached Parker. "What is it, Bub?"

"That's not a mummy," the boy observed, pointing at a fossil of a small early on mammal.

"No, you're right, it's not. At least not any more," Brennan explained. "But it was before it turned to stone. When the body dries, the muscles of the back contract, that's why it seems to hold its head on its back. That way you can tell that it was a mummy once."

Parker nodded and turned around. "And that one?"

"That one was found in an old salt mine." They were now looking at a monkey. "The salt took the water from the body and added to the dryness of the location and insects and bacteria don't like salt."

"So, no breaking down of the body." Parker nodded and then turned to his father. "Can we get something to eat now?"

* * *

**Well, that's it. I hope I didn't bore you with all that mummy stuff. It's very loosely based on German Wikipedia articles, though I did make up most of the mummies. Except Ötzi, of course. He's real, but I think he won't leave his museum in Southern Tyrol. It would just be too expensive, because of the constant cooling that he has to be in to preserve him.**

**Oh, the red and yellow lighthouse, Okke uses in his paintings does exist. It's the lighthouse of the East Frisian city of Pilsum.**

**You'll just have to find out, if some of the information from this chapter helps solving the case, or if it was really just a filler.**

**Until then... I hope it doesn't take me as long to write the next chapter as it did to write this.**


	14. Of sunken ships and desiccants

**Okay, next chapter. I hope it makes sense and you can follow any possible mental leap I made.**

**Thanks for the reviews.**

**Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 14: Of sunken ships and desiccants**

It was Saturday afternoon, when Brennan entered the lab for the first time that day. She just wanted to check her mails, get the notes for her next novel and then head home and write a bit. Parker was a bright kid, she contemplated, but for her it was still draining to have to formulate what she wanted to say in a child fitted way. That was another reason she was convinced that she wasn't good with children. She was just too educated to be able to talk properly with them.

She blew a strand of her auburn hair out of her face and closed her eyes for a few short moments. When she opened them again, she realized that the lab wasn't as empty as she'd expected it to be.

There was light in Angela's Holographics Lab and she heard typing from Hodgins' and Zach's lab. She put her bag in her office and decided to check on Angela first.

"Hey Angela," she greeted, when she entered the lab.

"Huh?" Angela looked up startled.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Bren, yes, I'm fine."

"Then what are you doing here?" Brennan stepped closer to her best friend and looked at what Angela had been looking at. "Did you do that?" She pointed at 'Bounty'.

"No, it's from my friend Okke. You know, the one whose vernissage I was invited to yesterday."

Brennan nodded.

"It's called 'Bounty'. I don't even like it, but for some reason I constantly ended up in front of it. As if my subconsciousness was trying to tell me something, yet I absolutely don't know what. And as I wasn't that good a company at the moment, Hodgins suggested we could go to the lab, and here I am, still staring holes into that painting." She turned to Brennan. "Where were you by the way? I expected to find you here."

"Parker insisted on me giving him a private tour through the mummy exhibit." Brennan sat down on the couch beside Angela and studied the painting herself. "I don't like it either."

Angela laughed. "How did that tour go?"

"In the beginning I was talking 'too much science', apparently, but in the end he didn't ask that many questions any more. He didn't want to learn about Ötzi, though."

"Hey, he's five, how should he know that Ötzi is the great attraction of this exhibit."

"He compared him to 'ship man' as he called the mummy from Alaska and turned around to look at the next display."

"They do look similar," Angela defended Parker. "You can't see who is the older one, can you?"

"No," Brennan admitted. "You're right." She looked at the painting again. "Did the name of it make you ruminate or the painting itself?"

"I don't know, Sweetie," Angela sighed. "I really don't know."

"Does it have something to do with the case?" Brennan turned to Angela again. "The HMS Bounty was, after all, near Australia during the trip to gather breadfruit, though a lot farther to the South than Gladstone."

Angela nodded. "And Bligh's launch traveled farther to the North."

"As did the HMS Pandora," Brennan said, "and she sank, running onto Great Barrier Reef. Perhaps one of the landmarks you found yesterday is consistent with the discovery site of an old shipwreck. There have to be more than just the Pandora."

"That's possible." Angela stood up, walked to her desk and picked up the incompletely decoded list of dates and locations, before turning to Brennan again. "But how would that help for the case?"

"I don't know exactly, but it would at least clear your head." Brennan stood up. "I'll check with Hodgins, while you compare the locations."

"Okay, Sweetie, see you later."

Brennan smiled and left the small lab for the other, surprising the scientist with her presence. "You're here?"

"Obviously." Brennan nodded. "Anything new?"

"Yes," Hodgins said, holding up his index finger. The printer started working and Hodgins typed a telephone number into his phone. He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"Booth."

"I found silica gel," Hodgins started outright, answering Brennan's question from before as well. "That's a..."

"...desiccant, but it is also used for purification of DNA and chromatography," Brennan concluded, taking the report from the entomologist after the printer had stopped working. "It was in the shorts pocket?"

Hodgins nodded. "Yes. I don't know how it got there, though. It was dyed. Not with cobalt chloride, but with ferric ammonium sulphate, making it orange when dry and pale white when associated with water, instead of blue and pink. So, it was in fact a desiccant, which the size of the pellets already suggested."

Brennan nodded.

"What's it used for?" Booth asked, still not quite sure what the two scientists were talking about.

"You know those little sacks that are always in boxes with water sensitive goods?" Hodgins supplied.

Booth nodded. "'Don't eat this. Throw away.'"

"Exactly. Inside those sacks is silica gel."

"If some of the silica gel pellets managed to get into Pirkko's pockets," Booth said, "I'm sure there had to be quite a bit of it, helping the other circumstances to turn Pirkko into a mummy."

"Probably, though that doesn't really help in determining where all that happened, as such sacks are quite common," Brennan said.

"But it's a lead."

"Yes, wherever it does lead."

"Come on, Daddy, you wanted to show me how to throw the boomerang!" they heard Parker whine in the background. "Please."

"Okay, Bub, I'm coming," Booth said and added into the phone, "You heard him. I need to go. Give me a call, if you find anything else."

"Bye, Booth."

Hodgins put the receiver back into its cradle. "What do you plan to do now?"

"I'll leave you to your analyses, check my email and write a bit," Brennan said.

"Are you going to admit one day that we're all in your books?"

"No, because you simply are not."

"We so are," Hodgins called after her, before turning to his microscope once more.

It was evening before either of them emerged from their labs or offices. Angela was the first to leave her lab and she joined Brennan. She had just completed the retrieval list and sent it to Tim Schuller.

Brennan looked up from her screen, when she heard her best friend entering.

"My head hurts," Angela complained, answering Brennan's concerned look.

"Do you want some acetylsalicylic acid?"

Angela laughed. "You're the only one I know to call it by its chemical name. What's so wrong about asking 'do you want an Aspirin'?"

"Well, I don't have Aspirin exactly, just a cheaper version, so ASA would be more specific."

"If you say so. But no, there's no need, it's just the stress I set myself to," Angela said. "Nothing a bit of distraction won't solve." She grinned. "So, distract me."

"How?" Brennan frowned.

"Tell me what Booth did while you were giving Parker a private tour of the museum."

Brennan's frown deepened. "Well, he mostly just tagged along."

"You can't tell me that's all."

Brennan thought for a moment. "He acted as interpreter. When I couldn't find a word that Parker would understand, Booth would translate. And if Parker did something that was a mystery to me, Booth explained that to me. Else, he just listened like Parker to what I explained."

"Okay, Bren, that doesn't work. How about you tell me what you wrote?"

"For the new book?"

Angela nodded.

"No, I'm not."

"Afraid that there's too much Booth in there again?"

"He's not in the book, neither are you or Hodgins or Zach or Cam or..."

"I get it, Sweetie. None of us in the book."

"Besides, what sense would it make to withhold it from you for such a reason now, when you can easily buy it, once it is sold?"

Angela grinned. "Exactly, why withhold it from me now, when I can buy it, once it's sold?"

"Angela," Brennan groaned, "now I'm the one getting a headache."

Angela laughed. "Well, mine is gone now."

"Then you can tell me what you did the whole day."

"I completed the list and then compared it to the locations of known shipwrecks," she stated.

"And?"

"Let me tell you, there are quite a few along the Great Barrier Reef. And some ships were lost at sea and their wrecks not yet found, so there might even be more."

"Is there one close to Pirkko's last retrieval location?" Brennan wanted to know.

"Yes, there is, though, back when she was taking her samples it was not yet known. At least not to any official research team," Angela explained to her best friend, "When they discovered it last year, they realized that it must have been plundered by someone not too long ago."

"How did they know?"

"I don't know exactly." Angela shrugged. "The article I found on the internet just stated that there was evidence of it having been plundered no longer than a few years ago. It did say, though, that they are suspecting that the schooner was a gold transporter by the name of Prometheus. She disappeared in 1853."

"There's the connection to the Bounty," Brennan smirked.

"How so?" Angela frowned.

"The Pandora should bring the Bounty mutineers back to England."

The artist nodded. "Yeah. You already mentioned the HMS Pandora."

"Well, in Greek mythology the contents of Pandora's box were Zeus' punishment for Prometheus giving the humans fire."

"Funny, Sweetie, I'd not have expected that from you."

Brennan shrugged and changed the subject. "How much was her cargo?"

"The article didn't say, but it was during the Victorian Gold Rush that she left Melbourne, so the odds are that she had quite a bit of gold on board."

"Where was she headed to?"

"England." Angela sighed. "It probably has nothing to do with Pirkko's death. The Prometheus disappeared over 150 years ago, after all."

"Yeah, but maybe you can concentrate better now. Is that nagging feeling gone?"

Angela looked at the ceiling and then back at Brennan. "Yes, mostly."

"Good. Then let's call it a day." Brennan yawned.

"Aw, did Junior G-man wear you out?" Angela teased and was surprised that for once without prodding from her side Dr. Temperance Brennan admitted the truth of that.

* * *

**I made the Prometheus up. I'm picturing her (it's strange to call a ship with a male name 'she', isn't it?) as a clipper, even though gold is no perishable good and therefore didn't need the quick shipping clippers were built for.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter.**


	15. Fish

**Chapter 15: Fish**

"So, anything new?" Booth came bouncing up the stairs to the platform. It was Monday and he'd had a great weekend. He'd shown Parker how to throw the plastic boomerang the boy had wanted so much, when they had been at the Wallmart to buy groceries for the weekend. That was after the visit to the museum with Brennan (which Parker had enjoyed very much asking for a repeat when the next interesting exhibition was at the Jeffersonian). In the end the toy had returned to his son fairly often and by midday on Sunday he'd even been able to catch it from the air. Booth smiled at the memory.

The only downside of the weekend had been that he'd had to return Parker to his mother on Sunday evening. He kept the smile on nevertheless and returned to the present.

The Squint Squad – all clad in blue lab coats except Cam who was wearing a blue autopsy suit – was gathered around a computer set beside one of the cameras. At his question they turned around to look at him, nodding their "hello"s.

"Hodgins found fish scales on the victim's clothing," Zach began.

Booth frowned. "Wasn't it already clear that she died in the ocean?"

"Yes," Hodgins said, "but that doesn't explain the amount of fish scales I found. She had to have had direct contact to the fish. Simply touching it or being in the same body of water wouldn't be enough."

"Where did you find them?"

"Lodged in the seams and pockets of her clothing," Brennan answered. "We don't know yet which species the scales come from, though."

"We sent samples to a marine biologist," Cam said and Angela added, "We should send some to Tim, too. If she died in Australian waters, the scales are most probably Australian as well and Tim knows the water fauna down under better than any American marine biologist might see the reason to."

"You're right," Cam agreed. "How do we get them to Brisbane the fastest, though?"

"How about we send him a few actual scales, but in the meanwhile he gets to look at photos of them via email," Hodgins suggested. "That way he'll be able to tell us and our marine biologist a few possibilities. Practically no time lost."

"Then get going, Hodge Podge."

He grinned and mimicked a military salute. "Aye, aye."

* * *

"It's preliminary, but most of the fish, actually a wide range with different habitats, like the four-finger threadfin, Eleutheronema tetradactylum, the Malabar grouper, Epinephelus malabricus or the Skipjack tuna, Katsuwonus pelamis, appear to be quite common in tropical waters, especially from Australia to the Indonesian islands. The tuna can even be found in tropical and subtropical seawater around the globe," Tim explained. "There was one type, though, the Chelmonops truncatus or Truncate coralfish, that prefers the temperate zone. Its distribution reaches no further north than the southern parts of the Great Barrier Reef on the east coast. The combination of these species put the location somewhere in the southern parts of the Great Barrier Reef."

"Let me guess," Hodgins said, "National Park. Fishing strictly forbidden."

"You got it." The Australian sighed. "We've been trying to cut the fishing down for ages now. Some fishers just don't get it. And they're not even required to stop fishing all together, just in the restricted areas."

"Don't give up, Don Quixote."

"Funny," he said cynically. "I just hope our efforts are not just a tilt at windmills."

* * *

"So, we assume that she somehow ended up in an illegal fishing trawler. After all most of the fish were edible species and only some were endemic fish of no particular commercial use that probably just ended up in the net by accident. Also, he puts the combination of fish to the southern Great Barrier Reef," Hodgins summed up his conversation with Tim Schuller. "Of course he'll have to confirm that once he has the actual scales, but he seemed to be quite confident. I also sent the possible species information to the marine biologist here for confirmation."

"Still doesn't explain how she ended up here," Booth said.

"Neither does it explain why she was mummified," Brennan added, "instead of decomposing and being scavenged."

"She must have ended up in the trawler only a very short time after she was killed by the seawasp's venom. To keep the fish and the sharks from scavenging her," Zach said.

"The fishing crew even might have been the ones who pushed her into the sea," Booth said.

Cam nodded. "They keep the fish from decomposing by cooling them with ice, don't they?" Several nods from the scientists and the agent confirmed that. "I'll check the skin once again to see, if I can find anything that suggests that she had been in contact with ice."

"I'll help you," Brennan said.

Hodgins looked at Zach who then said, "I'll help Hodgins with the swabs, the clothes and the neoprene."

Hodgins nodded and then pushed Zach towards their lab again.

"Alright." Booth flipped a poker chip. "I'll call John Smith and ask him to send me anything he has on illegal fishers around the time Pirkko died."

"And I'll get us all coffee and donuts," Angela said. "Anyone something particular?"

"I'm sure Booth would prefer pie," Brennan said, waved and disappeared with Cam in the Autopsy lab.

Angela turned to Booth with a smirk.

"Don't look at me like that, Angela," the FBI agent said. "I like donuts just as much as pie." He winked. "I am law enforcement after all."

"You are, G-man."

* * *

"There were signs of frost bite," Cam said, climbing the stairs to the lounge that overlooked the lab. Booth was just opening the donut box. Zach and Jack were leaning back on the couch, both holding a cup of coffee. On the opposite couch Angela had slipped out of her shoes and pulled her legs up under her. She, too, held a cup of coffee in her hand. Behind Cam, Brennan approached the group as well. She nodded and confirmed what Cam had said. "We didn't even have to search very long. Else we wouldn't be ready, yet."

"Any specific patterns?" Booth asked holding a cup of coffee and a donut in Brennan's direction.

"We haven't checked yet, but I doubt that it will make any difference, if there is or isn't a pattern." Cam received a cup of coffee from Jack and then sat down beside him.

Brennan and Booth sat down simultaneously on either side of Angela. "What did you find?" the anthropologist wanted to know.

Booth started with his results. "John Smith was very eager to help. Like before. He hasn't send me anything yet, but I'm sure there will be coming something. After all his sister works for the water police in that region."

Everyone nodded and then Hodgins continued. "We analyzed the neoprene further. It is not the usual type used in diving or surfing suits. It is more similar to the type used for example in laptop sleeves, but it is not quite that either."

"The computer is searching for other uses right now," Zach added. "Thus far it hasn't come up with anything. Neither did the swabs nor the clothes yield anything new."

"So, let's post a scenario with what we know so far," Booth suggested and added in Brennan's direction, "though a lot will be speculation."

Brennan nodded sceptically. "Go on."

"Okay." Booth turned to the others again. "Pirkko goes out to sea to take water samples from the southern part of the Great Barrier Reef."

"To see how much and in what way the ship traffic in that region influences underwater flora and fauna," Hodgins said and the others nodded.

"On the 5th of May 2005 she runs into an illegal fishing operation. She confronts the fishers, gets pushed into the sea. Falling into the tentacles of a seawasp," Booth continued.

"Paralyzed by its venom, she is unable to keep herself above water and drowns," Zach said.

"Wait," Brennan said, "if she was pushed into the water by the fishing crew, she wouldn't have died due to the intoxication by the seawasp. They are more likely to be found in shallow waters, where normally a fishing crew wouldn't put their nets."

"That's right," Hodgins agreed. "So, we're missing a part of what happened. Let's continue anyway. She ends up in a fish trawlers belly a short time after she died in the sea."

"She is long enough in the ice, that she gets frost bitten," Booth continued. "Then she somehow gets into contact with silica gel."

"And finally ends up in a mausoleum on a DC cemetery," Cam finished. "Is it just me or are there more holes in that scenario than there are facts?"

"There is not much fact in the whole scenario," Brennan said. "We're missing way too much to be able to tell what exactly happened."

Everyone sighed resignedly.

And then a telephone rang.

* * *

**That was it for now. I don't know when I'll be able to update again. I should even be reading my anatomy books right now, but my head doesn't want to. So, I wrote. I hope the fish I chose make sense to those who know them and it's not all completely wrong.**


	16. A container full of faulty TVs

**Chapter 16: A container full of faulty TVs**

It was the shrill ring of Booth's cellphone that pierced through the silence in the lounge area and shook them from their resignation. Everybody leaned forward in Booth's direction and held their breaths, hoping for news that would yield something. Anything, really, that would help them solving the mysterious case of Pirkko Kala.

"Booth."

Silence. Not even the shuffle of clothes could be heard on the lounge. The buzz from the lab downstairs was drowned out by the expectations of the Squint Squad, labeled as "completely insignificant" by each of their brains.

A quiet, female voice from the cellphone's speakers penetrated the silence, easy to hear for Booth who had the device directly at his ear, while the others had to strain to hear what was being said on the other end. "Agent Christens here. Deputy Director Cullen told me to call you, Agent Booth." She seemed to be young and enthusiastic.

"Yes?"

"Yeah, concerning some faulty LCD TVs sold illegally in the Virgina/North Carolina region."

"How is that my concern?" Booth wondered, not seeing anything in that statement that would make it necessary to call him. He was a major crime investigator, after all.

"Well, apparently the TVs' origin is Australia. They had been put into a container in Brisbane to be shipped back to the producing company in South Korea, but were forgotten."

"Hold on. I'll put you on speaker, so my team can listen, too." He pressed the button, placed the cellphone on the table in between the two couches and introduced the scientists. After explaining what the call was about, he asked, "Do you have the dealer in custody at the Hoover building?"

"Yes, a-" she paused and they could hear the shuffle of papers. "-a Marty Sands."

Booth raised his eyebrows at the name, but said nothing, instead earning questioning glances from the Squint Squad for his facial expression.

"States he found the TVs in a container on the beach after the severe storm two weeks ago. Thought he could make money from it. Stranded goods belonging to the finder and so on."

"Was the container retrieved?" Brennan asked.

"It was still in the lonesome bight where it stranded two weeks ago. Right now it's in the forensics lab. We checked its numbering. That's how we could track it back to Australia."

"If it was on its way to South Korea, how did it end up here? I mean, the American east coast is not exactly on the way from Brisbane to Seoul," Angela observed.

"That's right. However, the shipping company said that the container never made it onto a ship to Korea. Like I said, it was simply forgotten," Agent Christens said. "About a month ago it was found again, complete with TVs. The shipping company had become insolvent in the meantime and thus had no use for the container any more. Neither had the Korean company for their TVs. In the end it was auctioned off to a smaller transport company, including the contents. The ship with our container was on its way to Rotterdam in the Netherlands, when it came into a heavy storm on the Atlantic ocean. They lost a few containers, including the one from the auction."

"It stranded on the beach and Marty found it," Cam summed up.

"Exactly."

"Has Cullen told you why to call me?" Booth asked.

"Not exactly. Just that he didn't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do we," Hodgins said. "Who wants to do the play-by-play?"

"About a week ago a mummified corpse was found in a mausoleum," Zack started. "No indicators of a cause of death, nothing to help identify her."

"Algae, plankton and fish scales point her death to the ocean on Australia's Pacific coast," Hodgins added. "As well as the seawasp's venom, that paralyzed her and made her drown."

"Based on a CT I did a facial reconstruction and we sent it to Australian authorities," Angela said. "They found a name to the face: Marine biologist Pirkko Kala."

"We just couldn't explain how she ended up mummified in a DC mausoleum," Brennan finished.

"The container might at least explain, how she came to the US American coast," Cam said.

"That would leave us with the questions: who pushed her into the ocean, who put her into the container, how did she become a mummy," Booth added, counting the questions with his fingers, "and finally who placed her in the mausoleum in the end?"

Hodgins jumped to his feet. "Let's go to the forensics lab and check it out," he said clapping his hands.

"And I'll join you, Agent Christens, in the interrogation of Marty Sands," Booth decided.

"Alright. See you in a few at the forensics lab," Agent Christens said and ended the connection.

* * *

Agent Christens was exactly as she had seemed on the telephone: young and enthusiastic. Her brown hair was cut short in a way that wouldn't keep her up long in the morning, yet make her look fresh and energetic, with a zest for action, anyway. She was of average height, but had a trained, strong body and her pantsuit gave her an air of professionalism that made her otherwise rather youthful appearance almost forgotten.

"Hey everybody, I hope this baby leads you somewhere." She pointed behind her at the large, red container, when she saw them approach. It had probably been the cases and cases of equipment each of the team – sans Cam and Angela, who had stayed at the Jeffersonian to take another look at what they'd already found, but including Booth – carried that gave them away. "And maybe those, too." Now her hand had moved to her right, pointing at a large amount of TVs, mostly still in their cardboard boxes. "And maybe _I_ can help you, too." The last sentence was something between a hopeful question and an actual statement. Both her thumbs were now pointed at her own chest.

"Let's hope so, Agent Christens," Booth said. He smiled at her.

Unfazed by the charm smile, she grinned back. "I sure hope so, too."

"Let's go and interrogate Marty Sands, then." He turned to the Jeffersonian team, holding up the case he carried. "Where do you want this?"

"Just put it by the side of the container," Hodgins said and took a step towards said container.

And everyone set to work.

After about an hour of intense work and comparing results with the FBI techs, Brennan found that there was nothing left for her to do and went to check on the interrogation, knowing Jack and Zach had everything in the lab covered. Someone she knew, but had forgotten the name of, pointed her to the right interrogation room and so she soon quietly slipped into the observation room adjacent to the interrogation room, where she saw Booth and Agent Christens. There also were an assigned counsel who was vaguely familiar to Brennan and a young man, almost a boy still, with dishwater blond hair and broad shoulders. Currently he was answering to a question, Brennan hadn't heard, by nodding his head "yes" slowly.

"Are you related to someone working at Glenwood Cemetery?" Booth asked and it was obvious to Brennan that his young female FBI colleague hadn't expected such a question. Neither had she herself.

The young man looked down. "Yes," he said, "my grandfather does maintenance there."

"Did you transfer the dead body of Pirkko Kala from the container to the cemetery?"

He looked up. "I don't know any Pirkko Kala."

Booth put photos of Pirkko's remains on the table, taken at the mausoleum. "That's her. That's Pirkko."

Marty looked at the photos and immediately looked away again, nodding his answer.

"Did you have help?" Agent Christens asked.

This time the young Sands shook his head. "No. It wasn't that heavy. Not much heavier than the TVs anyway."

"Why did you bring her to Glenwood?" The female agent wanted to know now. "It's quite a distance from where the container stranded."

"I knew the place. That's all. I thought perhaps... Someone would find Pirkko – that was her name, right?"

Booth nodded.

"I hoped Pirkko would be found there. As well kept as the place is. And she was."

"Why didn't you inform the police? Anyone?" Booth asked.

The boy looked at his counsel and then back at his hands. "I... I wanted to sell the TVs. And if I had reported it, they would've been taken as evidence or something. Like I've already said, there's this really cool car. But I can't afford it. I thought this was my chance."

"Thank you Mr. Sands. Your lawyer will explain the consequences of your behavior to you."

Booth and Agent Christens left the interrogation room and Brennan met them outside.

"Now we have at least cleared the American angle of this investigation," the anthropologist said.

"Leaves us with the Australian," Booth said.

"Did you find something?" The younger FBI agent asked.

"We collected quite a few samples and lifted more than twice as many fingerprints from the cardboard boxes and the inside of the container, but we still have to analyze them. And there may now be even more, as Dr. Hodgins and Dr. Addy are still at the lab."

"Let's see if they are ready to leave and then head back to the Jeffersonian."

"I'll do the paperwork on the interrogation," Agent Christens said, "Can I join you afterwards? I've never been to the Jeffersonian laboratories and I'd like to see them."

"On one condition," Booth said and Agent Christens nodded. "Give us your first name."

"Jennifer." She smiled. "But normally I'm called Chris."


	17. Inspector Luck

**So, veeeeeeery long time, no chapter. I'm sorry.**

**Once again I hope this makes sense and you enjoy.

* * *

**

**Chapter 17: Inspector Luck ...**

"We were able to lift at least eleven different sets of fingerprints," Zach informed them, when the duo entered the Jeffersonian's MedicoLegal Anthropology Unit.

"How do you know that it's eleven?" Booth asked.

"There are twenty-one different thumb prints," Hodgins answered. "We're running all of them through every database that has fingerprints in it. But as the container comes from Australia..."

"Yeah," Booth said, "Fat chance."

"We've taken the fingerprints of Marty Sands. So you can rule him out," Brennan added.

"Let's get it on then," Hodgins said holding out his hand and receiving the prints of the younger Mr. Sands from the FBI agent. He went to the nearest scanner to transfer the ink and paper prints into digital ones and thus speeding up the comparison of Marty's prints with the ones from the container.

Once again it was Booth's cellphone that rang. He took it from his pocket and after a glance at the caller ID flipped it open with a suppressed sigh. "Booth." He made a few steps into the direction of Brennan's office.

"What was the result of the interrogation?" Angela asked.

Brennan summed the conversation up, "Glenwood Cemetery was a place Marty Sands knew through his grandfather. He wanted Pirkko to be found, but at the same time he wanted to keep the TVs. So he brought her to the cemetery, where his grandfather does maintenance, and tried to sell the TVs."

Angela commented. "He was young and needed the money."

Brennan nodded. "He wanted to buy a car."

"Yes, that would be very much appreciated. Thank you," Booth said, turning in their direction again. "We'll keep in contact."

"Anything new?" Cam asked.

"John Smith has send me digital copies of files on illegal fishing activities in the southern part of the Great Barrier Reef. Starting with May the 5th 2005. Hey, that's 05/05/05..."

"A repdigit. I know." Brennan nodded. "Do the files include fingerprints?"

"I hope so," Booth said. "Let's check. Hey Chris, care to join us?" The female agent just came through the sliding doors, looking in awe at all the equipment. She nodded to Booth's question. "Great. Hodgins, can you send the fingerprints from the container to John Smith?"

"Consider it done," Hodgins replied. "As soon as I have ruled out Marty Sands' prints."

* * *

The files John Smith had send had come including scanned fingerprints. As there were quite a few of those files, they decided to arrange them in groups with the parameter "distance from last known location of Pirkko Kala". The closest would be checked first. When they were ready, they went out to the platform again, where they had left Hodgins before.

"We've got more fingerprints for you to compare to the container prints," Brennan said. In her hand she held an USB flash drive.

"Okay. I'll work with Angela on it..." The entomologist took the stick from the anthropologist and let it slide into his lab coat pocket.

Brennan and Booth had turned to leave, but stopped, when Chris did not follow. "I'll help, too."

"... when I have sent the prints to your Australian colleague."

"Not exactly colleagues," Booth corrected. "I'm federal."

"So? You're both police, aren't you? And you're both homicide. To me that qualifies as colleagues."

"I agree." With that the female scientist left the platform.

"It's not the same," Booth murmured and followed his partner.

"We never said that it was the same, just that you are colleagues," Hodgins called to the male agent's retreating back. He turned to Chris. "They are."

Chris nodded. "Somehow."

Shaking his head he typed a short message to Superintendent John Smith, attached the scanned prints from the container that were not those of Marty and pressed the "send" button with his mouse cursor. Then he left the workstation for Angela's Holographics Lab with Chris close on his heels.

* * *

"_If there's more than one possible outcome of a job or task, and one of those outcomes will result in disaster or an undesirable consequence, then somebody will do it that way._" engineer Edward A. Murphy once formulated.

It probably is a loose variation of Murphy's law that, if you have a large amount of places to look for something you dearly need, it is in the last place you take a look at. That's the case with keys, wallets and apparently with fingerprints, too.

Even though Agent Christens had joined them, it was already evening, when they finally had a hit. Angela had believed lesser and lesser that they would find something in the files of the illegal fishers, the further they veered away from Pirkko's last retrieval, but Hodgins had insisted that it wasn't that much to look at any more and so they had done the last files on the same evening.

A green sign with the word "match" flashed on the screen of Angela's computer, when she had gone to fill up their coffee mugs. Hodgins rolled over from his computer in his chair and looked at the information that came with the prints. "Mike Pesh," he read to Chris.

"Who's that?" Angela asked from the doorway.

"Someone arrested for illegal fishing who has left his prints on the container," the agent supplied.

"We've got a hit?"

"Yes," Hodgins said, grinning from ear to ear. "Yes, we have with the last file."

Angela sat beside him again. As soon as she sat the telephone rang and on Hodgins' screen another green sign started to flash. Angela and Chris looked at the information there, while Hodgins took the call.

"Dr. Jack Hodgins, Jeffersonian Medico-legal Anthropology Unit."

"We've got another hit," Angela said, while Hodgins listened to the other end.

"Giovanni Nassa." was said simultaneously from all three sitting side by side at the computers. They looked at each other. And then laughed.

"Thank you, Superintendent, anything else?" Hodgins said, "Yeah, we found him, too." He nodded. "Okay, have you got them for an interrogation yet? ... Yeah, okay, I'll inform Agent Booth. Bye."

"So, we've got two prints from the same crew. Makes sense, doesn't it?" Angela said, while Hodgins called Booth.

"Yes." He waited and then put the telephone on speaker.

"Hey there G-Man," Angela said. "We've got two hits with the prints."

"Yeah, a Giovanni Nassa and a Mike Pesh," Chris added.

"John Smith has sent someone to get them for an interrogation," Hodgins informed everyone.

"That's good work," Booth said. "Call it a day. We can ask Mr. Smith for his results tomorrow."

"Which means getting up early for you, G-man," Hodgins said.

* * *

The first thing Booth did the next morning was calling John Smith to get him before the Australian man went to sleep.

"Superintendent Smith." His voice was awfully awake, while Booth still felt terribly tired for a reason unknown to him.

"It's Special Agent Booth," he managed.

"Agent Booth, good evening ... or rather good morning," John Smith corrected himself. "It's kind of confusing to be almost halfway around the world."

"Yeah." Booth suppressed a yawn and a sigh, rubbing his eyes. "I called to ask about the results of the interrogation."

"Ah, yes," the Australian said and took a deep breath. "I sent them to you, but I'll give you a short overview. The stories of the two are consistent with each other as well as with those of the rest of the crew members, albeit not identical. All complained about the fishing and fish ground situation."

"What is that story they're telling?" He waved Agent Christens into his office, motioned for her to sit down and switched to speaker.

"They were fishing in a restricted area around the Great Barrier Reef. Everything was fine until they hauled in their net on May 5th two years ago. Inside it was a big surprise: the corpse of Pirkko Kala," John recounted, "They didn't know what to do with it, as going to the public authorities would've meant admitting that they'd been fishing illegally."

"So they dumped her some place else," Booth stated.

"Exactly. Giovanni had just lost his job at the Brisbane harbor. He still knew which container would have been in for shipping in the near future. What he didn't know was that a computer glitch had caused a huge chaos. No one knew which container was where and when it should've been shipped and where to."

"That was why the container with the TVs fell of the radar for almost two years?" Booth wanted confirmed.

"Yes. The whole crew denies having anything to do with Pirkko's death. They wanted her to be found without any possible connection to them and were very surprised, when we started to ask them about her after all that time."

"Did they remember in which area Pirkko ended up in their net?"

"Better. We already had their GPS. Its logbook includes the data from that time. After all they were arrested only one week later further to the north. It's already on your account as well."

"Thanks, Smith. I'll call you, if I have more questions."

"No problem. As long as you don't call until it's morning here."

* * *

Booth left his SUV parked at the J. Edgar Hoover Building. It was only a walk of about 10 minutes after all. He and Chris bought a box of donuts and coffee at the little corner shop that lay on the way and walked over to the museum, talking about what brought them to the FBI. It was strange, he realized as they entered the lab, that despite being an FBI agent he seemed to spend more time at the Jeffersonian than at J. Edgar Hoover.

"Good morning, you two," they were greeted by Jack. "Is that donuts and coffee?" Without waiting for an answer the entomologist immediately called, "Fellow 'Squint Squad' squints! Booth brought sugar and caffeine!"

"Is it always like that?" Chris asked.

Booth nodded. "You'll get used to it."

In no time at all the whole Squint Squad plus the two FBI agents sat on the lounge area couches, eating donuts and drinking coffee.

"Did you call John Smith?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, he told me that the crew members each claim in a consistent, but not identical way that they had nothing to do with Pirkko's death," Booth answered.

"He sent him their GPS logbook, so we can see where they were at the time. Perhaps that helps," Chris said.

"Hopefully," Cam said.

"I'll get right on it," Angela said, "as soon as I'm finished with this delicious sin." and took another bite of her donut.

And then she did as she'd said, finding nothing that would help. "They never were exactly at the spot, where Pirkko took her last water sample. The usual current would've taken her away from their course as well," she said to the others sitting on the couch in her Lab.

"Wait, what happened to Pirkko's GPS? Was it found?" Zach wondered. "She had to have one. After all she used GPS coordinates to pinpoint her location."

"She had one," Brennan confirmed, "but it was an old very basic version. It had no backtrack."

"How do you know?" Booth wanted to know.

"I had the same back in the 90's."

"If it was that old a version, it makes sense that the coordinates she wrote down where rather imprecise," Hodgins said.

Chris nodded. "Back in the 90's of last century Selective Availability of our military still added errors, that varied with time, up to a hundred meters to the received coordinates. It made no sense that the devices were more precise."

"So, essentially we're back where we started," Cam said.

"Yes." Angela sighed, sinking deep into her chair. Then she sat up again. "Unless, ... Let me check something."

Confusion was on every face, but Brennan's. "Shipwrecks," she breathed in realization, but Angela's exclamation stopped her from explaining.

"I'll be damned."

* * *

**That's it for now.**

**In German we have a commonly used word for the mathematical word "repdigit". It's "_Schnapszahl_". I was very surprised that there doesn't seem to be a non-mathematical word for it in English. **

**There are different explanations for the etymology of the word _Schnapszahl_. The most popular among them is probably this: When intoxicated with alcohol such as "Schnaps" (hard liquor) the phenomenon of double vision often occurs. So, if the same cipher (Zahl) appears repeatedly in a row it is kind of like seeing double.**


	18. Theories

**Chapter 18: Theories**

"I'll be damned," Angela repeated her exclamation, shaking her head.

"What did you find?" Brennan's head had snapped around to look at her artist friend on the first exclamation.

"Well, you suggested to look at shipwrecks around the Great Barrier Reef, right?"

The anthropologist nodded.

"Which was awfully intuitive and into the blue for you by the way, Sweetie," Angela said, her eyes fixed on her best friend only, who looked even more dumbfounded than the artist herself.

Brennan swallowed. She hadn't expected that her suggestion would lead anywhere, least of all to a possible solution of Pirkko's murder. "What did you find, Ange?" she asked. Her mind was too perplexed to produce something new.

"The Prometheus fits." Angela announced. "She's not directly on the course of the fishers, but if Pirkko was pushed into the water at the ship's last rest, the current would have taken her across it."

"What is the significance of the Prometheus?" Booth asked.

"Yeah, what has a figure from ancient Greek mythology to do with Pirkko?" Chris wanted to know as well.

"Not the figure. The HMS Prometheus was a schooner. She was to transport gold nuggets from Melbourne to England, but disappeared in 1853 before she could even leave Australian waters."

"That's very interesting, but I still don't see the significance," Booth said.

"When they found her wreck last year, they discovered that she must have been plundered." Angela paused and then added. "Recently, not back in the 19th century ..."

"You're saying that if on May the 5th Pirkko was, in fact, at the spot, where the Prometheus sank ..." Hodgins started.

"Which is a possibility we cannot prove," Brennan interjected.

"... she may have run into the raiders," Hodgins finished.

"She confronts them. Wants to know what they are doing there," Booth continued, now seeing the Prometheus's possible role in their investigation.

Chris added, "And in their gold rush they push her into the sea."

Angela nodded. "If their discovery had been made public, they would have had to leave the gold where it was, so it could be brought to a museum." She shrugged. "What happened after that, we can already prove."

"Damn, sounds plausible," Cam said. "But with what we have, we won't be able to prove it, as Dr. Brennan mentioned."

"We might never be." Zach looked at all of them and then focused on Angela. "One question though."

Angela nodded again.

"How did you even get the idea to look for shipwrecks?"

"I was at the vernissage of my friend Okke. And there was this painting of a sailing ship. I'll get it, wait a minute." With these words Angela disappeared behind a self made screen and then shifted several stretched canvases against each other, causing the sound of wood against wood. Then she reappeared with a canvas covered in mainly blue and white with a little brown and black. The colours formed a square rigger with white sails and a white hull. "This is 'Bounty'. I don't really like it, but it kept me under its spell."

"The painting Okke gave to you," Hodgins said nodding.

"There's really nothing spectacular about it, is there?" Chris held her head cocked slightly to the right.

"Exactly, but something about it kept nagging me." Angela looked at Brennan. "And then Brennan turned all intuitive and suggested me looking into shipwrecks around the Great Barrier Reef."

Brennan nodded. "I did," she said. "What I didn't know was that it would turn out to be a possible solution to the case."

* * *

The next day was the last for Pirkko Kala at the Jeffersonian. They hadn't found anything new on her remains for days and so they finally decided, that she should return home. Her mother had agreed that she could be cremated. The ash would then be sent to Brisbane.

It was depressing that they hadn't been able to close the case. They had no murderer, they didn't even have a suspect. No justice for Pirkko.

But that's how life goes sometimes. You can't always get what you want. At least the marine biologist from Australia wouldn't be ending in one of the white boxes in Limbo. She wouldn't be another set of anonymous bones, yellowed by age. She would rest where her loved ones were, her son would be able to visit her grave. That was the only soothing thought.

Brennan looked at the bones that were laid out in front of her on a table. Bones from Limbo.

Pubic angle said male.

Epiphyseal fusion put him at an age of around 15. An adolescent.

Nasal arch indicated a Caucasian descent.

Artefacts put his death about 180 years prior. She'd check with the C14 method, but she was pretty sure no one would be missing him any more.

Healed fractures of the right tibia and fibula, set, but not perfectly. Probably from when he was 7 or 8. Excessive use of his joints from hard work.

Fracture of his pelvis, no healing. Blood stains on the breaking surfaces put it ante mortem. Probable cause of death. Another victim of child labor in the mine where he had been found under huge rocks. It was a wonder, really, that he hadn't suffered more fractures.

She shook her head and sighed. Industrialization hadn't only brought good things. Child labor in mines certainly wasn't an improvement. Nonetheless she didn't want to live in the time before it.

She put the bones back into their box, after taking a sample of his left femoral head and a tooth, and then went to Hodgins' lab. "Do you have time for a radiocarbon dating?"

"Sure, Dr. Brennan." Hodgins took the sample from her. "Wait," he said as she already wanted to leave again.

She turned around. "What do you have?"

"The neoprene," Hodgins said.

"What about it?"

"It was produced by a firm who would make anything you want from it in any color: diving suits, laptop sleeves, shoes, boxes, buffer protecting strips, ... Take your pick."

"That doesn't really help, does it?" Brennan furrowed a brow.

"Not right now. The company didn't exist that long. Only two years between 2004 and 2006. If there is a suspect, his guilt could be proven by that neoprene."

"Thanks, Hodgins." Brennan smiled weakly. "But how are we going to find a suspect?"

Hodgins shrugged. "What are the most valuable police officers of any force around the world?"

Brennan frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

Hodgins rolled his eyes. "Inspector Luck and Sergeant Chance," he said and then explained: "The inspector already helped us: he found the correct fishers. Maybe if the sergeant finds some gold nuggets with the same isotope profile as the gold from the Prometheus or at least the Melbourne region, ... maybe we'll have a suspect then."

"You're saying that _if_ we stumble over gold nuggets by chance and _if_ those gold nuggets have the same isotope constellation as the gold from the Prometheus, then we _might_ perhaps have a suspect," Brennan said.

Booth came in. "That were awfully many 'maybe's, 'if's and 'perhaps'es, don't you think?"

"I have to agree." Brennan nodded.

"I'll call John Smith anyway. Better than nothing," Booth commented.

Brennan sighed. "Yeah, better than nothing. Hodgins, send John Smith your neoprene analysis and then look into that radiocarbon dating."

"I'm on it." The entomologist started typing and the two partners left him alone.

Booth followed Brennan to the boy from the mine, while talking to John Smith. She set to work on the boy's skull, applying tissue depth markers. A face wouldn't increase the slim possibility of finding out who he was – no photographies, nothing to compare it to –, but at least he'd have a face.

"Bones," Booth got her attention, after he had ended his conversation with the Australian policeman.

"Hm?" She looked up, a piece of white rubber hovering above the boy's left cheekbone.

"What do you say about lunch at the diner?"

"Sure, let me just finish this." She applied the rubber to the cheekbone and then proceeded with five more. A look at the skull structure, a measure of the rubber, cut, glue. Quiet efficiency. "Okay, I'll give this to Angela now and then we can go."

* * *

"I want to accompany Pirkko to Australia."

Her statement came completely out of the blue. Only seconds before they had talked about child labor in mines and how lucky they were to be born in this time and this country. Not over a hundred years prior or in a country like Bolivia. Booth managed a sound that was both questioning and acknowledging, or neither.

"I want to attend at her funeral, too," Brennan added, "if her mother agrees." She took a sip of her tea.

Booth smiled at her. "I'm sure she does."

"You think so?"

Booth nodded. "Of course. It won't matter to her, that we didn't find Pirkko's killer. We brought back her daughter. That'll be all that matters to her."

Brennan smiled back at him. "Why don't you come, too, then? I'm sure she'd appreciate that as well."

"I can't. I have Parker for a whole week ..." He looked at his watch. "... from now on."

The bells over the door jingled

"Then take him, too," Brennan argued. "I mean, I'm sure Tammo and him would like each other. And he could pick his own, actual Australian boomerang."

"Are you going to Australia?" Parker asked with big eyes, excitedly bouncing up and down. "Can I come, too? And get a boomerang like Bones said? I want to see kangaroos and koalas and wo..." He frowned. "What are they called?"

"I suppose you mean wombats," Brennan said.

Parker nodded. Rebecca sighed. Booth groaned. "Look what you've done, Bones."

Brennan and Parker frowned.

"Then it's a good thing that he already has a passport," Rebecca said, smirking. "You won't be able to do anything with him, if you don't go to Australia," she told Booth.

"See?"

"Sorry," Brennan muttered.

Parker looked at each of his parents in turn. "Does that mean I can come, too?"

* * *

As you can see, Mendenbar, you hit the bull's eye (had to use the nautical term, ...).


	19. Down Under

**Chapter 19: Down Under**

Brennan looked at the clock on the wall to her right. Another hour before the boarding of their second flight, the one to Brisbane, would start.

In front of her was an ocean of lights behind the floor to ceiling window. Parker had chosen these seats. He hadn't wanted to sit in the business class lounge, but on these plastic seats facing the ongoings at LA International. He wasn't admiring them currently though. As soon as they'd sat here, the boy had fallen asleep, leaning against her arm. Understandably as it was past midnight back in Washington. His blond curls partially obstructed her view of his face, but from what she could see of his features she gathered that the boy was relaxed and content. She looked back at the volume of National Geographic in her hands, opened to an article on the significance of Ayers Rock for the Aboriginal people.

Booth sat down beside her and held a paper cup of coffee in her direction. "Here."

"Thanks." She took the hot, dark liquid from him gratefully and offered a small smile in return, before leaning back in her seat again.

Following Brennan's suggestion of going to Australia and Parker's decision that they had to go, there had been a string of decisions, arguments and actions that had led to them sitting here in an airport on the other side of the country.

Brennan had insisted on buying the tickets. Booth had protested vehemently. Brennan had informed him, that she had to buy the tickets as – according to Booth – it had been her fault that they had to go in the first place. She hadn't mentioned that she doubted he had that much money to spare anyway. Booth had grumbled, but acquiesced to that argument. Until she had mentioned that she'd pay for the hotel as well. Angela had come in at that moment and accused them of sounding like an old married couple. She had functioned as a mediator then, with the result that they would split the rest of the costs by half. Angela had told them to behave in front of Parker or she might have to actually agree with Brennan after all: Booth was as childish as his son (who had every right to be, as he was still a child) – as was Brennan. After that they had agreed on a hotel and a flight rather quickly and had gotten their ETAs.

The next argument – this time in hushed voices – had ensued at Dulles International. Brennan had booked business class tickets for all of them. There was no way she'd sit in economy class for over half of the day where she would have only limited space for her legs. It _was_ quite expensive though (which was still an understatement given the fact that the trip to and from Australia almost cost the same as a small car – for one person), she'd have to agree with that, but she wasn't about to tell him just how much money she'd paid. Booth had protested vehemently again. There was no way he could accept that much money from her. She had shrugged and told him to thank her later. Parker had just stood beside them, looking from one adult to the other as if he were watching a tennis match. Then he had taken Brennan's hand and told his father with a small frown that he should thank her. Shaking his head and sighing in defeat, Booth had wondered exactly how much money she made with her books, but said nothing more.

"I guess he doesn't need this."

"Huh?" Booth's voice had shaken her from her musings and Brennan now realized that he was holding a third cup in his hands. She looked to Parker again. "No, probably not. He hasn't woken yet."

At that moment the boy started to stir and rubbed his eyes. "Is the next plane there already?"

"No, but it's not that long any more," Brennan said.

Parker nodded.

"And now I just thought I could drink this delicious cocoa all by myself," Booth said and held the cup to his lips.

The boy was suddenly as wide awake as possible this late in the night. "No! Daddy, I want to have it!" He leaned over Brennan trying to reach the cocoa and she had to save her coffee by holding it up.

"Easy. You don't want to have Bones' coffee all over you, do you?"

Parker shook his head and sat up again. "Sorry."

Booth chuckled and handed his son the third cup. "Careful, Bub. It's still quite hot."

The younger Booth nodded and took the cup into both of his hands. After a few minutes he tried and then drank his cocoa with his legs dangling contently.

* * *

When they touched down in Brisbane early on a Monday morning over 14 hours later, two new chapters of "No Bones About" were written (Brennan's writing made this journey possible after all), Parker had learned about time zones and the date line ("What happened to Sunday?") and Booth had read about the significance of Ayers Rock for the Aboriginies, the rainbow serpent and the last free living camels of the world (dromedaries in the Australian outback).

After they had collected their bags and the urn, they made their way to the hotel in a taxi. They had nothing planned till the late afternoon, when they would visit Tammo and his grandmother in Aquatic Paradise.

Nothing, but a little bit of sleep and something to eat.

Both adults tried to convince the boy that he should sleep for a little bit. Not long, just so he could better adapt to the completely different time zone and be awake when they visited the Kala's. Brennan and Booth intended to try to, too.

They were sitting in a little café close to their hotel eating breakfast.

"Weird," Parker had commented. In Washington it was around dinner time and he had a bowl of cereals in front of him.

"See? That's why you should try to sleep a bit, Bub. That way you will still be awake, when there will be dinner for real."

"But," the boy argued, "there is so much to see!"

Two hours later all three of them were sleeping in their hotel beds in two adjoining rooms.

* * *

"My name is Tarmo," the taller blond boy stated, and stuck his hand out to the other blond boy. "But everyone calls me Tammo."

"I'm Parker." The American boy took the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Do you want to go to the beach?"

"Can I, Daddy?" His eyes were sparkling.

Booth hesitated and Sirkku Kala smiled. "It's safe, Agent Booth. The sun is quite low already and there won't be any box jellyfish."

The woman, who wasn't as old as she had seemed on the telephone, but exactly as caring, had guessed his concerns head on and so Booth shrugged, "Okay, Bub."

Cheering the two boys rushed to the back of the house that lay directly at the beach.

"Let's go to the patio," Sirkku said with a kind smile. "There we can watch them."

The three of them followed the boys and sat down on the house's porch from which a few steps led down to the beach. The two boys had started to build a sandcastle at the water edge.

"Both names fit my grandson," Sirkku said after a few moments of silently watching the children interact.

"How so?" Brennan asked.

"Tarmo means energy. It's a Finnish name. Tammo is a short form of the old German name Dankwart and means 'known for his thinking'."

Brennan turned to Tammo and Parker again. The older boy was gesticulating wildly with his arms, while Parker watched him with admiration. "I see what you mean." She saw Parker nodding and both of them adding moats, that would fill with water whenever one of the small waves broke on the beach.

They watched in silence for a little bit longer, until Sirkku Kala spoke up again. "Thank you." Her gaze wasn't on her grandson any more, neither was she looking at her two adult American guests. She looked past the growing sandcastle out to the sea.

"What for?" Brennan frowned.

"For everything." The elder Finnish woman turned to them. A kind smile was on her face. "For finding out what happened to my daughter. For bringing her back home to us. For caring enough to come almost half way around the world to attend at the funeral of someone you didn't even know. For that I'm thankful."

"We didn't really succeed," Brennan said, looking down at her hands. "We still haven't found her murderer."

"No, we haven't," Booth said, "but the rest ... It was no problem."

"It's what we do," Brennan added.

"And I still thank you," Sirkku Kala insisted. "I have certainty now. I know what happened. That's all I need."

In that moment Parker came running towards them. "Bones!" Tammo followed him.

"Yes, Parker?"

"Look what I found!" He held the thing he had found up.

"Is that a bone?" Booth asked nervously.

Parker gave what he had discovered in the sand to Brennan. "What is it?"

Brennan turned the piece in her hand. The sea had smoothed its edges, but it was still recognizable. "It's a hip bone. At least part of it."

Booth groaned. "Please tell me ..."

Brennan turned to her partner. "It's not human."

"How do you know?" Tammo asked.

"Bones knows _all_ about skeletons," Parker stated with pride about the fact that he knew her. "That's how she helps Daddy catch the bad guys."

Brennan smiled. "See this?" She crouched down and pointed to a round and smooth cavity in the bone. Both boys nodded. "It's called _acetabulum. _During the animal's life, this is where the head of the _femur_, the thigh bone, would have been."

"Do you know what kind of animal it was?" Sirkku asked.

"I'm not quite sure. I don't have much experience with this kind of bones," Brennan said.

"Come on, Bones, make an educated guess," Booth said.

Brennan looked up at him sceptically. "It doesn't look like a dog. I'd say seal or something similar, given it was on the beach, but I can't be sure."

"Tim will be coming for dinner," Tammo said to Parker and explained with the same pride in his voice that had been in Parker's, "_He_ knows _all_ about the animals and plants in the sea."

The adults laughed causing the children to look up in confusion.

* * *

**There are seals around Australia (even an endemic species), but as far as I gathered from Wikipedia there are no colonies near Brisbane/Aquatic Paradise. There are dugongs, but those don't have hip bones with _acetabula_ any more. Let's just assume a seal got lost and swam a bit too far north...**


End file.
